Blackbird
by IrishLeFay
Summary: Young Mika'el is Chosen by Rivven, but he has been a special child from the moment of his birth. Despite this, he struggles to fit in amongst the other Trainees and fears he will never assume his whites. Velgrath Series
1. Breath of Life

Disclaimer: Velgrath, Valdemar, and the general world in which this story takes place are not mine, nor am I making any money off of it. The characters are mine, however, and since someday I may make money off them, but am not at the moment, I ask that they are not used without my concent 

Blackbird

Prologue: Breath of Life

By: Irish

It was the worst storm of the season. The last snows of winter were always like that in Northern Valdemar and Falcon's Pass was no exception. Jordain had woken up that morning to the clenching pain of a contraction as it tore through her body. On the heels of that agony had been the agony of terror. She was not quite in her eighth month of pregnancy yet with her second son, it was far too early for him to be rushing into this world.

If she had woken to labor pains even three months ago, she would have been greatful and willing to risk her own health for the natural miscarriage. The child she was carrying was unplanned and unwanted at conception. Her husband was a brutal man and had beaten her black and blue on many an occasion. When Jordain learned she was pregnant by him a second time, she'd had enough and had managed to throw him out with the help of her brother.

There, of course, were herbs she could have taken to end the pregnancy, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead she had prayed for the problem to take care of itself, after all, Gaelin had beat her severely before he left, and she had spotted blood for days after.

The life slowly kindling inside her, though, had not been extinguished. It continued to grow, rounding her belly and breasts. There had been a breif time of guilt, fear, and relief, when the baby was slow to make it's first little kicks inside her, but eventually those kicks had started.

The child in her was an active one, for as hard as this pregnancy had been on her, turning this way and that inside of her. It kicked occasionally, but more often she had the sensation that it was pressing its hands against her womb, exploring its ever smaller home. There were other times when she couldn't shake the feeling that the small life inside her was listening very carefully to the world around it. It hadn't been like that with her first, a son, who seemed rather incurious even out of the womb.

The curiousity and tenasiousness of her second child had won her over, and so, as she felt the first contractions of labor come over her far too early, Jordain was terrified. It seemed to cruel, to lose the child after only just having learned to love it. There was no denying that sensation though, the babe was coming.

Jordain woke the one employee of her small Inn, a rather simple girl of sixteen, and sent her for the midwife. Falcon's Pass had no Healer, so the local midwife would have to suffice. Already though, the snow was falling, and Jordain wasn't confident that the midwife would get to her in time.

There were no guests at the Inn from the night before, it was too col for travelers, so Jordain didn't open come daylight. Folks would just have to gather elsewhere for the day.

She tried to keep moving throughout the day, feeding her two donkeys, and the handful of chicken and sheep that kept her and her son Tobin fed and clothed. Around lunch, though, the cramps became too intense to. She was already feeling the urge to bear down, even though her water hadn't yet broken. Tobin had mostly been playing alone, and now she shooed him into one of the rooms upstairs, with a handful of toys, making sure there was no way for him to get into mischif, and shut the door. He would have to manage on his own for a bit. She had no other choice.

Upstairs to the main hallway she set herself to pacing, waiting for the midwife, each contraction so long and hard that she couldn't even draw enough breath to scream. Tobin's birth had been nothing like this! She had labored for several hours, yes, but there hadn't been this kind of pain!

When the midwife finally arrived, it was dusk. Tabin was silent now, asleep, and Jordain was at the foot of her bed. She clutched at the wooden bedstead, her jet hair drenched with sweat. She'd walked and walked all day and tried to breath just so, to ease the pain, but none of it worked. Her water had broken two candle marks ago, but she had been fighting the urge to bare down most of the day. The contractions were now a countable number of breaths apart, and drew her down to a squat, her body trying to force out the tiny life.

Even without the midwife, if it had truly been time, her body would have simply pushed the child out. It wasn't time, though, she and the midwife could both feel that her body wasn't truly ready yet. If she tried to pass the child now, she would tear, and bleed out.

The midwife had had her sit and draw back her knees, inspecting her, feeling for the press of the child's head. The crone had shook her head as the wind wailed outside.

"It is a breached birth. I'll try and turn it, but I think it is too late."

Jordain's blood froze. No! No! She would not lose this babe! Not after all of this! Not after she had agonized over whether to keep the child... or take the herbs that would expel it from her womb.

"I will not lose him!" She hissed, gripping the front of the crone's simple dress. "If you cannot deliver him, I will do it alone!" Jordain almost wished the woman hadn't come at all. She had carried Tabin to term alone, his father having long shaken the dust of this down from his heels. She had bore his unwelcome return, and the equally unwelcome piece of himself he had left growing in her alone. She had carried this challenging pregnancy, and the anxieties of it alone. She had made the decision to carry him to term alone. She would be just as glad to birth him alone.

"I will do what I can, Lady." The old woman shook her head though.

_:We must go, now.: _

Lara's voice interupted what had been about to be a well deserved hot meal. Kandin raised his head and shot a look at his Companion across the waystation.

"What in gods' green earth could be so dire?" He frowned. Normally he wouldn't have even asked, but he had only just got in from the blizzard outside and Lara had said it would last the night. There was a good chance it would leave them snowed in. Only mortal peril would be worth the risk and he had had no Foresight of any such danger.

_:It's life and death, Chosen.:_ She said no more, instead, she moved over to the way stations door and gave it a delicate kick with her front hoof.

"Barbarians?" Kandin asked as he found his feet, damping the fire he had started only minutes before, pulling on several pairs of socks and still-wet boots over them.

_:No. A baby.:_ Lara was prone to cryptic remarks, and Kandin frowned at her, ducking under her neck to open the door. He threw her tack on her back as she walked past, strapping it on in short order once outside, his fingers going numb in the bitter wind in those brief moments.

"A baby?" he shouted over the wind, but it was lost even to his own ears. _:A baby?:_ he asked again.

_:Yes, now hold on.:_

She spoke nothing more to him as she broke her way through the wind and snow, back to the main road, or what Kandin assumed was the main road. Lara moved with impressive speed through the white mud. Kandin held on, raised up in the saddle, trying to make it a little easier on her.

When Lara stopped at an Inn on the edge of the town, a single window lit and glowing through the blizzard, Kandin wondered if she had died on her feet for a moment. Why were they here?

_:What are we doing here?:_ He tried not to sound annoyed, but he sensed no danger, none.

_:Go upstairs, and you will see. Hurry.:_

_:Lady:_

Jordain wondered if she had finally gone out of her mind with pain, or if she had died and not yet noticed. She was squatting on the floor over rags and blankets, her back braced on the footboard of her bed, the midwife was between her splayed knees, a hand inside her nearly to the elbow, as she tried to turn the child around.

_:Neither, not yet anyway.:_ It was a woman's voice, a low and rolling alto, a no nonsense kind of voice, like a mother with many, many sons.

_:Exactly so, Lady. My name is Lara, my Herald will be at your side soon. You will need his physical strength, and my coaching.:_

If Jordain had had any breath to spare, she might have tried to speak to the voice out loud, instead, she answered mind to mind, another wave of pain swamping her.

_:Herald?:_

_:Yes, I am a companion.:_

At that moment the door of the room opened, and indeed, a man dressed all in white stood before them, winter cloak dripping on the floorboards.

Kandin had never seen a baby born before. He had only two younger siblings and didn't remember their births. He had no wife or children and no sisters. Lara didn't need to tell him, though, that this was a woman in trouble. The floorboards, blankets, and rags beneath her were soaked in blood. She was moon-pale and drenched with sweat. He had no idea what he could do for her, why Lara had brought him, but he paused only long enough to remove his cloak before crouching down next to the woman and taking her hand as she screamed in pain. After a moment, he was hard pressed not to echo it, her grip was inhuman in its strength.

_:Your son, you are right it is a son, must be born. He must live. I am here, I will help you. I have given birth to no less then six, and four of them are boys. We Companions do not birth as easily as horses. Focus your breath.: _Lara instructed.

Jordain hardly noticed the sandy-haired man besides her, holding her hand, drawing her more upright. He was speaking to her, but she was past noticing. There was no holding back as the next contraction came, and she threw her head back and screamed, as she bore down as hard as she could.

_:That's it. Push, push!:_

The midwife still had a hand inside her, now to try and guide the child into the world, feet first.

"I have both feet." The old woman panted.

Another contraction came, and Jordain only had time to draw a single breath into lungs that felt like they were on fire, before she bore down again, a pain she thought couldn't get worse increasing tenfold as she felt the cradle of bone her womb rested again split and separate. She felt something in her tear.

_:Again! I know your tired, but you have to push again.:_ Lara encouraged, her voice calm but emphatic.

"Push again," the midwife instructed. Jordain pushed, her hand clamped around the Herald's forearm.

"A shoulder, one more shoulder and the head." The midwife reported, almost dispassionately.

_:Think of your beautiful babe. Almost there, you'll be nursing him soon.:_ Lara soothed. _:Ride out this contraction, get your breath, then push with the next.:_

The remaining shoulder passed with the next push, after Jordain had gained her breath. Kandin was panting just as hard as Jordain though he didn't yet feel the bone deep bruises she was leaving on his arm. He was just scared to death. Scared that the babe wouldn't make it, that the woman he was holding wouldn't, either. He could feel Lara using his eyes, and found himself looking down where no one but the Lady's husband and her midwife should ever see. Lara wanted to be informed though. He could see two tiny, perfect little feet, could count each of the ten toes. Gods... was this how all of them came into the world?

_:No!:_ He heard Lara shout. _:No! Don't let her pull on his legs!:_ Kandin didn't understand, until he saw what Lara had seen, the midwife tugging on those tiny legs as the mother pushed. In that moment Kandin could also see why the midwife was doing something so blatantly stupid, the mother was bleeding, fast. Waves and rivers of blood, not red, but black there was so very much of it.

In the time it took Kandin to process all of this, there was suddenly a baby in the midwifes hands, and the mother, who had been a tense ball of straining muscle, now went completely limp.

_:That's it, good job Jordain, your all done dearling. Rest now.:_ Lara soothed, trying to keep the tension from her minds voice. Kandin could feel her tension, though, and knew there was more to be done. No sooner had he had that thought then the aging midwife was shoving the tiny and decidedly slimy thing into his arms, then pushing him away, still busy between the mother's legs. The woman lay lifeless on the floor.

Kandin stumbled to his feet, holding the babe. It wasn't crying...

_:Lara! Its not crying!: Oh gods no... not after all that!:_

_:Turn him over your knee, face down, and slap his rump.:_ She instructed, low voice gritty with nerves. Kandin dropped to a knee and did just that, slapping the tiny thing twice, the second time rather hard when the first didn't work.

_:Lara!:_

_:Turn him back over, put a finger down his throat, clear out any mucus, then do it again.:_ She instructed. Kandin slipped a finger down the tiny throat, clearing away the mucus, before repeating the slap. Still nothing.

_:Turning blue!:_ He didn't ask Lara for further instructions, instead, he put his mouth over the mouth and nose of the babe, and puffed gently. Its little chest rose with the small puff, and Kandin did it again, before turning it over his knee and giving it one last smack, this time between the shoulders.

Never, ever had he heard a sound so sweet as what he heard next. The little thing drew a huge gasping breath, and started to wail.

Kandin sagged with relief, actually having to sit down fully, feeling Lara's relief just as keenly as his own. _:Oh thank gods, oh thank gods...:_ He gasped. The wailing boy, it was a boy he finally saw, came to rest in the nest of his crossed legs. It was still wailing, but it was more then just a new born wail. He sensed a tone to the boy's cry. Something was still wrong...

_:Chosen, look at his legs.:_ Lara said softly. He understood why she had spoken so carefully, his stomach twisted hard, and he felt the urge to vomit. Knees and hips, both were dislocated. No wonder he was wailing so desperately. He was far more then frightened and hungry.

_:Quickly now. You know how to fix a joint, but fast, before he takes chill.:_ Lara said, still watching through his eyes. It made Kandin sick, the thought of having to pop those tiny joints, seeming no bigger then those on his fingers. Quickly, not letting himself think, he popped each hip and each knee into its proper place. He glanced at the midwife, she was still working hard. The mother was ashen and no longer conscious.

The Herald turned away. It was the babe who had been thrust into his arms and put into his ward, the babe whom Lara's attention seemed focused.

_:Wipe him down quickly so he is clean, then swaddle him tightly.:_ Lara instructed him, and supervised as he did just that, wiping off all the slim and mucus, finding a clean swath of fabric and wrapping up the child tightly. It still howled, but its cries had grown less urgent. Kandin finally sat down and rocked the boy, watching now the midwife with the mother.

It seemed like years, before the midwife sat back, and finally looked over at him.

"Put her in the bed." She instructed in a raspy voice, taking the boy from him the moment she had struggled to her feet. Kandin felt a moment of fierce protectiveness, but said nothing, letting the old woman take him. He very carefully picked up the mother, and lay her down on her bed, drawing the covers up over her. She seemed at least partial conscious now, and he took it as a good sign. He watched the midwife put the swaddled babe in his mothers arms, and help her unbutton the dressing gown she was wearing and expose one full breast.

It was with utter rapture and fascination that Kandin watched the woman hold her new born son to her breast and get him to suckle. For how close the tike had come to never having his first breath, he had a hunger to shame a goat, and Kandin could hear him suckling from across the room. The mother let out a half laugh, half sob, as the boy filled his stomach for the first time.

Humbled, Kandin kneeled besides the bed, watching mother and child for a moment, Lara silent in his head.

"What will you name him?" he whispered, heart lurching as the boy opened his eyes, dark, dark, beautiful eyes.

"Mika'el." Jordain half sobbed, smiling. "Mika'el... 'gift from the gods'."

Author's Note: I've been a fan of Mercedes Lackey's Valgrath series for years, but have always hessitated to write fanfiction for it. I wrote this piece a long time ago, though, and finally think I'm ready to write the whole thing, not just a few chapters, I hope you enjoy!


	2. Hand of Fate

Disclaimer: Velgrath, Valdemar, and the general world in which this story takes place are not mine, nor am I making any money off of it. The characters are mine, however, and since someday I may make money off them, but am not at the moment, I ask that they are not used without my consent 

Blackbird

Chapter One: Hand of Fate

By: Irish

Falcon's Pass was a small village, situated uncomfortably between the Forest of Sorrows and the boarder of Iftel. It was a very small community, boasting a hundred residents at most, including children. The Forest on one side, and the Iftel boarder on the other protected it from the worst of raiders, but stranger things came out of both the Forest and Iftel. Things the townspeople tried to pretend they didn't hear in the dead of night. The soaring shadows of creatures with wingspans larger then three men laid head to foot.

If the strangeness wasn't danger enough, it was a very hard and unforgiving land. Winter lasted for months, the growing season desperately short. The winters were brutally hard, so cold that leaving any skin bared to the frigid air would freeze and kill it in minutes. Wolves had been known to raid the village in hard winters, when they were too starving to fear men or fire. The livestock is what they usually took. But children, and even full adults had been taken down and torn apart to fill their rabidly empty bellies.

The folks who lived here were not as strange as the Holderkin, in the far south, in their ways. But they were still strange to most of Valdemar. Conservative of dress and speech, the most unique thing to be said for them was their rather extreme dietary restrictions. Only the most detailed of accounts mentioned what these customs may be. They spoke a Creole language, a mix of Valdemaran and some other bits of unknown origin. In the few books in which these people were mentioned they were named as 'Falekin'.

They had, in past times, been welcoming and grateful of the Heralds that road their circuit, but there had not been a Herald to ride their circuit in many years. Supposedly protected by the Forest and the boarder of Iftel, and with Heralds spread thin, their village had not had Herald nor Healer in a score of years.

Young Mika'el, like all the others of Falcon's Pass, struggled through life with a grim determination and a staunch refusal to bow to the unkind hand of Fate that seemed the hallmark of his people. His birth had been the last time a Herald had ridden this sector, and the only time he had ever seen one was in the first twenty-four hours of his young life. He had turned fourteen less then a fortnight ago.

Fourteen, Mika'el reflected as he gazed for a moment at the crackling fire in the large hearth besides him, was no different then thirteen, which had hardly been different then twelve. He scooted the hard stool he sat on close to the fire, and then dragged the equally small table after him, stretching his legs out closer to the radiating warmth of the fire.

A winter storm was coming in. He didn't need any special Gift to tell that. His legs ached fiercely, hips to knees, the pain radiating all the way to his booted feet, a sure sign that the weather was about to take a turn to the worse.

Around him, though he was almost totally unaware of it, was the din of the busy inn his mother owned and ran. It was winter fishing season, and the inn did brisk business this time of year. Men coming in off the ice wishing to warm themselves with fire, with food, with spirits. The noise didn't phase him though, before him sat a neat and well-made piece of paper. At his right hand was an ink well and finely honed quill pen. He had started work on this particular document twenty minutes ago, but it was slow going. This was no simple letter, or copying of a document. He was writing up a land deed.

Carefully, he dipped the quill in the ink, making sure there was no excess lest it drip and mess the paper. Finally he put it to the page, and continued his work, ignoring all else, the noise, and the pain in his legs. It was only a few more lines and he'd be done. This was tricky work, he had to come up with his own wording, and it would be the only documentation that this land had changed hands.

When it was finished, he took his length of sealing wax from the small wooden box it came in, holding it over the candle that sat near his right hand, turning it until it melted evenly. With deft fingers, he placed the wax to the paper, leaving behind a small amount, which he then impressed with his own personal seal. That done, he made his mark beneath it, and raised his dark head.

"M'lord," Mika'el's voice, still soft and a bit high, not having fully changed yet, cut through the din easily, though he had not raised it at all. "Your deed is finished. Sign it and bring it to the clerk on the morrow," he said when he had found the two men who had commissioned him. Of course, neither was a 'm'lord', but they were both landed, and well landed at that.

"Thankee, and here is your pay." The man clinked the coins onto his table, before leaving with the man who he'd entered with, not seeming at all bothered that a serious legal document had just been written up and certified by a boy only just old enough to be allowed to read out loud from The Book and speak at meeting.

Mika'el tucked the coins away carefully, screwing the lid back on his bottle of precious ink, and cleaning off his quill. There was rarely, if ever, any back log for him to work on. He took work as it came. His gaze drifted over the main room of the inn, the noisy room that had been his nursery, his classroom, and now his office as well.

"How much did you make?"

Mika'el turned sharply, surprised to see that his brother had managed to sidle up beside him with out him noticing. Mika'el and Tobin looked enough alike that they were nearly twins, and with only two years between them, it was easy to believe. They both had the same inky black hair, with warm chocolate undertones; both had the same dark brown eyes, the same high cheekbones and slightly large nose. The only differences was a scant two inches in height and that at sixteen, Tobin was starting to fill out already in the chest, and was broader at the shoulders, and Mika'el wore a set of lenses on his face. Those were the only _physical_ differences anyway.

"From that, or for the day?" Mika'el asked, his attention seeming to return to his work, shuffling the objects of his trade around on the small writing table, letting his brother loom over him as though he didn't notice he was there at all.

"Both," Tobin said after a moment of pause, as though it hadn't occurred to him that there might be more then one answer to his question.

"Enough," was all Mika'el would answer. He would turn all the coin he had earned over to his mother at the end of the day. Tobin often got angry if he felt Mika'el hadn't made enough, if he had done well Tobin often got jealous, and the result was usually the same either way; a sharp cuff to the back of his head then two sharp jabs to his shoulder 'for flinching'.

"What, is it some kind of secret? Mother'll tell me anyway, if I ask her," Tobin crossed his arms over his chest, he didn't like the independence Mika'el had been building over the last year or two. He much preferred his younger brother to be dependent on him.

"That's mother's business than," Mika'el said dispassionately. He wasn't surprised when the back of his head was cuffed hard enough that his lenses jumped from his face and skittered across the table. A moment later it was followed by two sharp punches to his shoulder. Tobin always punched him with a knuckle out, leaving small but painful bruises.

"Two for flinching!" He crowed. Mika'el didn't respond, there was no point. He had learned that long ago. He didn't like it, but there was little he could do. If he ever tried to return the 'favor' Tobin would punch him far harder or even beat on him. Mika'el was strong in the arms but Tobin could still give him a thrashing.

Mika'el watched with narrowed eyes as Tobin took his leave. He used to get quite angry at his inability to defend himself against Tobin, but that was precisely what Tobin wanted, so Mika'el controlled his anger. If someone could be deathwilled by a look, though, Mika'el's brother would have been dead several times over.

Once Tobin was gone from his line of sight the young boy returned the lenses to his face, after cleaning them on the corner of his tunic, and begin to put his things away. He doubted anyone else would want his services today, and if they did, it wasn't like it took more then a moment for him to set up shop. The tools of his trade were far too precious and expensive to leave lying about. Good opaque ink, a metal tipped quill, and heavy bleached paper were all rare things. Not to mention the havoc that could be caused if someone stole his seal.

With meticulous hands he tucked away each of his tools in their own special boxes, which were then all tucked into a larger box which he locked with the small iron clasp, then stood, putting it in its place on the mantle. Standing was no easy task for him, though. It took both hands braced on the wooden table to push himself upright; the power coming from his arms, pushing with his legs was painful at best. At worst, if he wasn't careful, he could pop a knee out of join, just from standing.

Once on his feet Mika'el looked over to the door to the kitchen with a sigh, seeing all the men and tables and stools that needed to be woven between, and the precious few empty placed he could lean on along the way. He had a set of wooden canes but he didn't use them inside; they were too awkward in the close quarters of the inn.

Carefully, holding on to his table, he moved around to one side of it before gimping his way slowly across the room. He kept as much of his weight as he could on his arms, bracing his hands against tables and chairs along the way. Each step was like walking on glass, but it was a sensation Mika'el hardly noticed.

He staggered his way across the inn. The patrons moved out of his way a bit, but no one moved to help him, not even his mother who saw him coming. He slipped into the kitchen and behind the counter with her and eased up onto one of the stools. Jordain smiled at her youngest son, her precious, precocious son, and took his face in her hands kissing his forehead affectionately.

"You're growing so fast," she told him. Jordain was proud of her boy. He was brilliant and helpful, and although Tobin was far more able of body, to her, Mika'el was less of a burden then his brother.

"Hardly," Mika'el scoffed, but he blushed a bit with pleasure. He adored his mother. She was a strong, hardworking woman who had made a life for herself and her children as a single mother in a conservative community. She had taught Mika'el everything he knew. "I made some coin," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small leather pouch of his earnings. He was about to drop it into his mother's hand when the door banged open, the hard winter wind whipping in, blowing out several candles and lanterns, causing the fire to flare in the hearth. Mika'el whipped his head around. No one in these parts ever made such a dramatic entrance.

Jordain gasped softly. Immediately, she got to her feet and put her arms around her youngest son protectively. It was Galen, father of Mika'el and Tobin, who stood in the doorway. A huddled press of barbaric looking men stood behind him as he analyzed the room. His eyes were as hard and cold as the wind he was letting into the inn. When he found his eldest son, he broke into a wide grin.

"Tobin, come greet your old man!" Galen crowed, striding in. His herd of smelly sycophants trailing after him like a pack of dogs. Tobin, for his part, grinned just as brightly as his father, crossing the room in a hurry to embrace the man.

Mika'el watched stiffly from the shelter of his mother's arms. He wished she wouldn't do that; he was nearly a man, after all. Besides, his father treated her far worse then he treated Mika'el. Mika'el he mostly ignored. The problem was that Galen only _mostly_ ignored his youngest son. He'd struck Mika'el at least once every time he'd resurfaced to wreak havoc on their lives. Mika'el accepted it as a fact of life, and would much rather take a slap or two then see his mother beaten. Jordain, though, seemed to feel that it was much better that she be beaten bloody then to see her boy slapped even once.

Mika'el swallowed, gently prying his mother's arms off of him. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he murmured, and Jordain slowly eased her grip on him, though she kept an arm around his shoulders, watching as Tobin and his father greeted each other. Galen loved his eldest son, as much as the man could love anyone, anyway. Tobin was everything Galen had wanted in a son, and took very much after his father. Neither man was stupid, but they both had a certain short-sightenedness that made them seem rather stupid at times. Tobin was already showing the same signs of cruelty that his father did. Jordain had done her best to teach Tobin to be a kind man. None of it had seemed to take, though.

"Woman," Galen barked, his attention having turned to Jordain and Mika'el behind the corner. "Food." It was a command, not a request, and Mika'el bristled. The men who had been paying customers moments ago, were quickly departing, darting for the door like scared fish. _Cowards_! Mika'el thought furiously. Violence, generally speaking, went against Falekin faith, and it was a rare woman who was treated like his mother was. Instead of standing up to Galen, though, for his behavior, the village men who had the power to stop what was apt to be days of terror for the small family were fleeing. _Cowards! Hypocrites! Gutless, godless sheep!_ Mika'el seethed.

Jordain had hesitated a moment, but when she too saw the exodus towards the door and knew that she would be left on her own, she moved to obey.

O O O O O

Mika'el had been shooed upstairs by his mother shortly after Galen's arrival. He knew she hoped to keep him out of sight, and therefore out of mind. Mika'el couldn't bear to sit in his room though, and listen and guess, left with no recourse but prayer. Instead of going to his room, he sat down at the top stair, only his boots visible to those below, but he could lean forward and peer between the railings and see all of the common room below. He had moved from his post once to get a pillow to cushion his hips against the hard floor a bit, but it had done little good, and his legs were screaming in pain. Mika'el was very good at ignoring pain though.

Below him, Tobin sat with their father and his men. Galen claimed he was a mercenary, captain of dozen or so stinking men that were doing their best to drink dry the drums of ale in the kitchen that were supposed to last a fortnight. Mika'el wasn't fooled by the load boasts that Galen was making to his eldest son. Good mercenaries had armor that fit and a string of mounts to ride. Good mercenaries dressed in loud colors and wore all their wealth to advertise their skills. Good mercenaries didn't work in Valdemar, because there was no work for mercenaries in Valdemar. Mika'el knew this because he had read it. He had read every book in the entire village at least three times, and was very proud of his own small collection of five books. What he hadn't read, he had learned from listening to the men (and the very rare woman) who passed through the inn talk. Soldiers, mostly, who had seen more of the world than Falcon's pass.

As far as Mika'el could tell, his father was the exact opposite of what a good mercenary should look like. His clothes were drab and dark, his armor fit better then the rest of his men, but not well. Although he did wear several heavy pieces of jewelry, Mika'el could tell even from the stairs, that they were fake. No, they were not mercenaries, they were bandits. They probably did fight barbarian raiders, but not because they had been hired to do so, but to steel from the easier target of the barbarians what the barbarians had stolen from the more difficult targets of villages and travelers. It was pathetic. Tobin, though, hung on every single word.

O O O O O

"I'm taking the boys with me,"

Mika'el woke with a start. He had fallen asleep against the wall, still sitting on the top stairs. Below, it was dark and quiet; accept for the snores of his father's men. The boy didn't care lean forward to see where Galen and his mother were, because it sounded like Galen's voice had come from right besides the stairs.

"Take him, he wants to go, he hates it here anyway," Jordain replied, her voice both nervous and disdainful. "He'd follow you on foot, after all that nonsense you put in his head tonight, if you didn't take him with you."

"The runt too,"

Mika'el blinked. He was 'the runt'. Galen never referred to him by name. What the hell did his father want with him? His heart started to pound in his chest. He was sure that below him his mother's heart was doing the very same.

"Mika? No! No you're not taking Mika with you!" Jordain hissed. There was the crack of flesh on flesh and Mika cringed. His mother had been hit.

"He's my son too, pathetic thing that he is. Maybe away from your apron strings I can make a man out of him. Just try and stop me."

Mika'el clamped a hand over his mouth as a protest tried to explode from him. His father would kill him. Intentionally or unintentionally, if he left here with his father, it would be a sentence of death. Though he was young, Mika'el knew his body very well. That he was able to walk at all, that he had survived infancy, was a miracle. He pushed himself every day to be a little bit stronger then the day before. He knew how his father "made" things happen, and it would kill him. He wondered for a moment if Galen knew that and thought that maybe he did.

That thought stuck with Mika'el as he dragged himself backwards down the hall, scooting on his butt along the smooth wooden floor, into his room. He scooted all the way over to his little window, and gripped the sill to pull himself part way to his feet, peering out into the dooryard. It was snowing. He probably _could_ escape, slip out his window and drop into the deep snow below. It wouldn't matter though. He might, _might_, be able to make it to the stable. He'd be frozen and soaked by the time he did though, and if he didn't die from the cold, he'd catch the wet lung and die from that. More then likely, he'd dislocate his leg slipping out the window and would just freeze to death right under his window. There was no escape. Not for him.

_Stop that! If you can't outsmart that man down there, then you deserve to die!_ Mika'el growled at himself. _So stop feeling sorry, and start using what god gave you instead of a strong body._ He took a few deep breaths and sat down slowly on his bed. His guts were still all knotted up though, and although his mind was working, it was spinning round and round and going nowhere, like wagon wheels in mud.

The room was dim, lit only by the moon and its reflection off the snow. Mika sighed and watched the shadows of clouds dance across the white snow, forcing his mind to slow down. He spent a long time simply in prayer before he was able to really start working at the problem at hand.

If he slept at all, he didn't know it. His mother slipped into his room at the gray light of dawn, sitting on the edge of his bed. He had lain down at some point to ease the pain in his legs, but she could tell he was awake. She stroked his hair, whispering to him softly about what his father had said. She didn't need to say how she felt about it, he knew. She also didn't need to tell him why it was that she wasn't fighting to keep him here. They both knew it would do no good. Galen alone could over power her, with all his men behind him, resistance would only get them killed. Mika did what he could to reassure her. He understood. He loved his mother more than anyone in the world.

O O O O O

Mika found himself bundled in all his winter gear and set astride a horse behind his brother before the sun had even properly risen. His mother was trying not to cry. She prized her strength. Mika wished she would cry though, watching her struggle with herself brought hot, shameful, tears to his own eyes. He leaned down and hugged her last time.

"I love you mother," he whispered, saying no more. She nodded, her lips tight and white with suppressed emotion. Tobin, for his part, seemed to struggle between elation at finally being recognized as a man, and a confused worry for his little brother. He too embraced his mother briefly. Galen ignored the mother of his sons, calling for his little band to move out. Mika clung to his brother's waist, closing his eyes tight. He had come up with no plan of salvation last night. All he had done was pack for himself, which had allowed him to ferret away some things that might be of use, like his little knife, and some things of comfort, like his books. He had no choice but to wait and see how things unfolded, and prayed that his mind worked faster then the cold worked on his frail body.

Author's Note: Woot the next chapter. I hope those of you who liked the first liked this one as well. It isn't my strongest writing, but hopefully this next chapter things will pick up. There's a lot of background I wanted to wedge in before I really got down to it. If this had been original work, I suppose I'd have been more careful, but that's the beauty of fanfic, I'm allowed to be half-assed now and again! **Wink**


	3. Forest of Sorrows

Disclaimer: Velgrath, Valdemar, and the general world in which this story takes place are not mine, nor am I making any money off of it. The characters are mine, however, and since someday I may make money off them, but am not at the moment, I ask that they are not used without my consent 

Blackbird

Chapter Two: The Forest of Sorrows

By: Irish

Mika hadn't stopped shivering since he had woken up that morning. Breakfast had consisted of trail rations, and not the good kind, with pressed grains and fruit and bits of meat stuck together with honey or molasses or syrup. No, it had been a lump of stone-hard bread the size of Mika's hand, which he had had the option of dipping in a shared pot of beans. He had done so, though with much disgust, knowing that he would need the nourishment. In the cold, one had to eat almost constantly to keep warm.

He was mounted again, behind Tobin, who would turn to him every mark or so to ask if he was okay. It was quite touching. Tobin had shown very little affection towards Mika, but now, he was looking after his little brother like a mother bear after a cub. Mika would dutifully answer that he was fine, he wasn't though. He was in agony. The cold drove spikes of pain all up and down his legs, and every shiver or step of the horse, sent great bolts of pain lancing all through his legs. Mika had packed, among the other things he'd ferreted into his things, as many packets of the pain-killing herb he took, as he had been able to find. He was considering taking them all. It wouldn't be a painless death, but it would certainly end his pain. He rebelled against the idea almost immediately though. No, if they were going to kill him, Mika was going to make them work for it.

They rode all day again, following along the edge of the Forest of Sorrows. Mika spent most of the day watching the woods, his head resting against his brother's back. Things moved in the woods, flashes of white, not unlike the puffs of his breath in the cold air. The woods themselves seemed to move, the branches of the trees waving against the wind at times. His father and his father's men seemed oblivious of this. Tobin didn't say anything, but Mika could tell, every now and then, he'd notice something and was terrified. Mika, for his part, was dispassionately interested. He wasn't afraid, because the worst that the Forrest of Sorrows could do to him was no worse then what was already happening to him.

As dusk started to settle in, Galen called his meant to a halt. They weren't stupid enough to rest actually inside the Sorrows, but instead made camp across the road from them. Mika didn't point out that the road isn't what decided where the woods started and ended. Just because there were fewer trees on one side, and the map used the road to show the line, didn't make it so.

Mika waited as Tobin slid off their shared mount, then reached up to help him down. Mika leaned into his arms, holding onto his shoulders, as he half fell out of the saddle and into his bother. Tobin caught him easily enough though, and held him up as Mika struggled to get his feet under him. Finally, he shook his head.

"It's no use, Tob, I can't keep my feet. Just set me down," Mika sighed, resigned.

"You'll be wet, then," Tobin replied stubbornly. "Here, get on my back then," he turned his back to Mika slowly, so Mika could still put most of his weight on him, then crouched down. Mika draped himself over his brother's back, holding on tightly to his shoulders as Tobin straightened. Tobin looped his arms around Mika's thighs, supporting him. It still hurt badly though, and a small whimper of pain escaped his throat.

"Shut up, don't be such a baby," Tobin said gruffly, wading through the snow, further weighed down by Mika. They approached their father, Tobin with intent, Mika just along for the ride. "Da'," Tobin said hesitantly as he drew along side Galen. "Da', Mika can't stand, his legs hurt too bad. He needs to get warm."

Galen turned and looked at his sons, mouth drawing back into a sneer. "Too bad. Set him down, go gather wood for a fire."

"But, but Da'…" Tobin tried. Galen pinned him in a look that Mika recognized all too well, and he tugged at Tobin's tunic.

"It's okay Tob, I'll sit on my cloak. I won't get wet."

"But, but Mika," Tobin craned his head around, and Mika felt his heart squeeze. Tobin knew what this was doing to him, that if the weather didn't kill him, the pain would drive him crazy, and he felt guilty and scared.

"It's okay, Tobin, really," Mika tried to reassure him, squirming a bit to be set down. Finally, reluctantly, Tobin piggybacked him over to a very large tree, pressing down the snow amongst the roots and settling Mika amongst them.

"I'm sorry, Mika," Tobin whispered.

"It's not your fault," Mika reached up and patted his brother's face with one heavily mitted hand. "There's nothing you could do. Just remember this, okay? Don't stay with him. He's a bad man."

Maybe Galen sensed the starting of dissention among his sons, maybe he was just impatient, but he barked at Tobin. "The firewood, boy!" Tobin jumped, and with one last guilty look to Mika, left to gather wood.

Mika watched quietly from where he sat, nestled amongst the roots of the huge tree. His shivering was abating a little, as he wrapped his cloak all around him and was sheltered from the worse of the wind. He did take a few of the herbs in his pocket, but only to try and dull the pain.

The world went fuzzy for a while, as Mika drifted, and he was tempted to take more of his herb. An overdose would cause convulsions, vomiting, life would be dreadful for a few minutes, but then the pain would stop forever. It would be so nice, for the hurting to stop, for the cold to go away, it would be like being wrapped up in a big warm quilt, Mika thought.

_: Death is not a luxury you have,:_

Mika jumped, looking around, whom had spoken? There was no one near by, no one at all. He rubbed his eyes under his lenses and sat up a bit more amongst the roots. It must have been the herbs and the cold playing tricks on his mind. He forced himself to wake a bit more, and watch more activly what was happening around him.

Daylight faded. In charge of the fire, Tobin had built it near his brother, so Mika could stay where he was. The other men gathered around it. Dinner was more bread and beans. Tobin found a little tin cup and filled it from the pot of beans, bringing it over to Mika, who held on to it to warm his hands for a long time, before scooping up the beans with his ration of bread. He licked the cup clean, hungrier then he realized, and Tobin filled it for him again. It was the dredges of the pot, but Mika didn't care, and again licked every speck from his cup, following it with several handfuls of snow. For the first time in two days his belly was full, and he felt almost warm. He didn't give the feeling a chance to dissipate, and pulled his bedroll right over his head, took enough of his herb to sleep, and did so.

"Wake!"

Mika grunted, then cried out as he felt a sharp blow to his side. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, curling around the injured side. Galen stood over him, face full of anger.

"What?" Mika tried to sound defiant, even though most of his breath had left him with the kick to his side. It was still dark around him, and he could hear the chaos of men and horses.

"This is your doing! What have you done?" Galen shouted, kicking Mika again. Mika forced himself to sit up, looking around in the dark night. His father's men were scrambling into armor trying to gather horses that were spooked and rearing. He could see nothing other then that chaos.

"I've been asleep!" Mika cried indignantly. He looked around for Tobin, and found him trying to saddle their mount. "What could I have done?"

Then he heard it, and it froze his blood. Near by, a wolf howled, a hunting cry. Mika had listened to the wolves often enough, they sung year round, and this howl was to summon the rest of the pack to prey. Tobin had gotten their horse saddled, and dragged it by the bridle over to where Mika was.

"Hurry, hurry, they're getting closer," Tobin said urgently, reaching down to grasp Mika under the arms and lift him to his feet.

"But, they would never attack this many…" Mika said fuzzily. Wolves had to be out of their mind with hunger to attack humans. This was a herd of health male humans, there was no way wolves would attack, not even if they were able to sense how weak Mika was.

"This is the Sorrows, nothing is the same here!" Galen barked. He turned and gave Tobin a shove. "Leave him, and leave the horse, stake it to the clearing."

"But-" Tobin started; Mika shook his head though and gave Tobin a look. Tobin may have been older, but he had always known that his brother was smarter. When Mika gave him that look, he shut up, and waited until Galen rushed off again, before crouching over Mika. "What? You have a plan?"

"No, but I have the notion that I might have a plan," Mika replied, pushing the lenses up on his face more. "Do as he tells you. I may be able to mount up and ride. If not, the wolves may take down the horse and not me, if I can make myself seem scary enough. Go, hurry, or he'll leave you too."

Tobin took a moment and hugged Mika too him tight. He didn't say a word, but he didn't need to. Mika knew. Tobin was sorry, sorry this had ever happened, sorry he wasn't big enough and brave enough to protect his little brother, sorry for all the times he had been mean. Mika forgave him though. Life was like that, was all.

Tobin staked out his mount in the middle of the clearing by it reins and moved to saddle Galen's horse. He didn't see the man stalking over to his little brother. Mika thought for a moment to call out to him for help, seeing the murderous rage in Galen's eyes, blaming the wolves entirely on Mika. There was no point though. Tobin wouldn't be able to help him, and may just get himself hurt or killed in trying.

"Now, to make sure the bate doesn't escape," Galen chuckled cruelly. Mika expected a blow to the head, and ducked down, covering his head with both arms, so when the blow landed, a powerful stomp, on his thigh, he was taken totally by surprise. Too much surprise to even scream as an all too familiar agony coursed through him.

Galen watched him a moment, as Mika squirmed in pain, lips tightly clamped together, to keep from screaming. "Pathetic," he scoffed. "Just like your mother,"

Mika's eyes blazed from behind the veil of pain. His hatred, rage and pain filled him to bursting and without even realizing what he was doing; he reached up, fast as anything, and grabbed his father by what he could reach… his testicles. Mika was vaguely surprised at how good of a grip he was able to manage through his father's trousers and his own mitten. He gripped the vulnerable flesh as hard as he could, watching with grim satisfaction as his father's eyes bulged with the pain. Gritting his own teeth in a savage grin, he squeezed even harder, twisting as he did. Galen was in too much pain to even scream and this exchange of cruelties continued to take place in near silence.

"Don't. Talk. About. My. Mother." Mika hissed, before finally releasing Galen's testicles, falling back amongst the roots in half-faint, his own pain overcoming him.

Galen crawled away a few feet, before falling over on his side, both hands between his legs, vomiting on the white snow, where he too lay half-fainting. One of his men finally managed to drag Galen to his feet. The howl of the calling wolf had gotten closer. Galen staggered back over to Mika, his face white, barely able to walk. "Would that I had time to kill you," he hissed vehemently, finding enough strength through his pain to return the pain that had been returned to him, stomping down again on Mika's other leg. Mika did scream this time, as his other leg was broken as well.

Mika was in too much pain to see the rest of what happened, but his father apparently managed to mount up, though judging by the cussing and barely restrained screams of pain, it was as much agony as Mika was in with his own destroyed legs. Mika didn't bother to try and stir, letting the pain overwhelm him and drag him down into blackness. If the wolves came, right now, it didn't matter. He was as good as dead. His knees were both dislocated, which was something Mika could fix on his own, but he'd never be able to mount up and ride even if he got them back into joint. Even if the wolves went for the horse, not him, Mika knew he'd simply freeze to death. So he road the black waves of unconscious agony, time disappearing.

Author's Note: Hehe, this chapter was fun to write. Mika's dad is such an ass; it was fun to break his nuts. Let me give a shout-out to Wolfie, who originally helped me with this plot. For those of you who are used to my far slower writing of Fake and Harry Potter, let me say that this is easier because I know all the events as they are to play out, unlike my other work, which pans out chapter by chapter. I'm glad there are folks out there enjoying this.


	4. Chosen

Disclaimer: Velgrath, Valdemar, and the general world in which this story takes place are not mine, nor am I making any money off of it. The characters are mine, however, and since someday I may make money off them, but am not at the moment, I ask that they are not used without my consent J

Blackbird

Chapter Three: Chosen

By: Irish

Mika didn't surf the black waves of his pain for long; he hurt far too much to lay about idle. Slowly the pain began to overwhelm his semi-unconscious state. He knew what he had to do, and he knew that delaying would make it worse, not better. The howling of the wolves was growing closer, if it hadn't been for the fire near at hand, Mika was sure he would have been able to see the yellow glow of their eyes in the dark. His and Tobin's mount was yanking desperately at his reins, trying to free them from where Tobin had staked them well, able to sense his moral peril. Mika wished the nameless steed the best of luck. They'd both need it.

He pushed himself upright, bracing his back against the trunk of his sheltering tree. Both of his knees kinked out oddly, clearly dislocated. This happened to Mika so regularly that he'd taught himself how to set the joint. Dislocations, especially of the knee, were one of the most painful injuries a person could suffer, more painful then actually breaking the bone. For all that pain though, they were fairly minor injuries. The worst of the pain stopped the moment the joint was back in place, and just some rest was enough to heal injury. The only problem was that once a joint had dislocated, it was twice as likely to do so again. Mika had lost count of the number of times he'd dislocated a knee, and now they popped out given the slightest provocation. The only good thing about that was that they went back in fairly easily as well.

Mika took a deep breath, accepting the pain, acknowledging it, instead of trying to hold it at bay. It hurt. He simply had to work with that. He took off his mitten and put it in his mouth, biting down on the leather. It took a moment to gather the will, but he carefully felt along one knee, finding the exact right spot with his fingers, and then drew back his hand, curling in his fingers but keeping his palm exposed.

_God, give me strength_. He closed his eyes tight a moment. On the count of three, he drew his hand back, using the heel of his hand to hit with all his might at just the right angle. His scream of agony was muffled in his mitten, which he bit down on as hard as he could. The joint found its rightful place with a little pop, and as soon as the pain of the blow faded, the relief was enough to bring tears to Mika's eyes.

He didn't bask in his relief long, though. Silence had descended on the woods. The wolves were actively stalking now, either him or the horse. Either way, he was running out of time.

He repeated the procedure with his other leg, using the heel of his hand to strike at just the right angle, popping the joint back in it's place. When that was done, he allowed himself to lay back and close his eyes once again. It wasn't a peaceful rest. The horse had caught scent of its predators, and was almost shrieking in terror, frantically tossing his head this way and that trying to free himself. Mika did rest a moment though, until he was no longer panting. He was worried, in an absent-minded way, that his legs still hurt far more then they should. He should feel almost normal. Instead, although the most intense and immediate of his pain had been relived, he still hurt quite badly.

Mika pushed that pain aside though, pulling his mittens back on. With movements that seemed agonizingly slow, he managed to scoot around closer to the fire, throwing on some more branches from the pile that Tobin had gathered earlier, making sure it burned bright. The saddlebags that his own things had been packed in were also still there and Mika unlaced them gratefully.

There were the obvious things, in that pack, another full set of winter clothes took up most the space. Tucked among the wool and leather, though, were other things that Mika had packed for himself. His little yew-handled knife, more little muslin packets of herbs, all five of his books, and the splints and bandages he used for his knees. There were a few other little trinkets as well, the treasure of any small boy, a small handful of smooth, shiny stones, the last of his little wood-carved toys that he hadn't quite outgrown, that sort of thing. The latter group his ignored, all though feeling the familiar shapes of carved Companions and griffins soothed him a bit. He took another packet of herbs, tossing the muslin pouch they'd been in into the fire, a wasteful move he'd never have made if time weren't so pressing. The materials for his splints he took out but set aside. It was his little yew-handled knife he was after.

Mike put the sheathed knife between his teeth, rolling over completely on his front, his pain spiky and jagged with every movement. Once on his front, he got his arms under him, and started to drag himself across the clearing to the horse. Originally, he had hoped to be able to mount up and ride away, but there was no way he'd ever be able to get into the saddle of the frantic hours. Plan b had been to hope the wolves went after the horse and left him alone, but listening to the horse whiny and cry, its eyes rolling so wildly, Mika couldn't stand the idea of watching as the wolves took down and fed on the horse. It wasn't that Mika was a horse lover, per se, though he did respect them. Horses just had very human screams.

It was a long crawl through heavy, wet, snow. As he moved out of the circle of light cast by the fire, away from the burning crackle, he was able to hear the snuffles of the wolves, circling just at the tree line. The pads of their huge feet making the softest of sounds in the heavy snow. They were hesitating, Mika realized, because the men had been relieving themselves just at the tree line, in essence, marking their territory. Humans were predators, meat-eaters, and the wolves would be able to smell that, and tell that the predators in question were a pack of males, and the amount would be a clue as to their size. Forrest of Sorrows or not, no wolf or pack of wolves would attack a pack of fellow predators of at least their own size. Mika had until the pack figured out that he was the only one here.

Mika eased through the snow, able to feel the wolves' eyes on him. When he got close to the horse, he realized that freeing him was as dangerous as the wolves out amongst the trees were. Mad with fear, the horse might just trample him. Not that it really mattered. There was no way he was going to survive this anyway. Mika stayed as far back as he could, reaching out the full length of his arm to saw through the reins. The minute they had been cut through, the horse reared up, coming straight down with its sharp front hooves, and Mika was only just able to roll out of the way. After that, it simply bolted into the night. Mika could hear the growl of the wolves as they took off after the horse. It was unlikely they'd be able to catch it and take it down though.

Mika retreated back to his next amongst the roots of the tree, near the fire. He couldn't even begin to guess whether or not the wolves would be back. He had never heard of a healthy wolf pack hunting humans. Yes, in hard winters, an occasional human was taken down; usually it was by a loan wolf or a pair of wolves. Usually they were starving and desperate. This winter hadn't been that hard, and in just a few weeks it would be over. The wolves would know that too. Maybe his father was right; maybe everything was different in the Forest of Sorrows

He indulged in a few moments of rest. His legs still hurting furiously. After a few moments, though, when his breath became relatively settled again, he pushed himself back into a sitting position. There was still work to do.

With the wolves taken care of for the moment, and no horse to distract him, Mika set about bandaging his legs. He had packed with him the splints that he used when he dislocated a knee, mostly they were just long flat pieces of wood that he could put on either side of his knee, and then wrap with bandages above and below the joint. It allowed him to bend his knee just a little, but didn't allow for any give side to side. It didn't take Mika too long to bandage up his knees, but even with that extra support the pain wasn't fading. Not that it mattered. He couldn't have walked out of the Forrest even if his father hadn't stomped on him.

Unsure what else to do, Mika built up the fire a little more and lay down. Sleeping in the cold was a good way to never wake up; but the boy was pretty sure that was a moot point for him. He made himself as warm as he could and closed his eyes. Despite his pain, he slept quite easily.

Mika woke again the next morning, almost too cold to move. The fire had died down in the night. As soon as he was able to move a bit, he built up the fire again, but was careful with the wood. It was running out very fast. After that, he pulled on his second set of clothes over his first to try and keep in a little of the heat. There was no food, but he ate some handfuls of snow to slake his thirst.

Throughout the day he was able to watch the small creatures of the forest moving about. As still as he was, they hardly seemed to even see him, and the soft crunch of little paws on the snow were nice company. He read on an off, and napped when he felt like it. By dusk, though, his stomach hurt with hunger, and the cold had settled deep in his bones. It had also started to snow again.

The flakes fell thick and fast. By the time it was dark, Mika was coated in a blanket of white. It was somewhat insulating, which was a plus, but not enough to actually help with the feeling that there was ice in his veins. When it was true dark, and the moon started to rise, the wolves had started to call to each other again.

Mika added his last few branches to the fire, watching the woods around him. Yellow eyes and dark shadows paced back and forth at the edge of the clearing. The wolves were back. They hadn't moved to attack him, but they were just at the edge of the clearing, pacing and pacing. The fire would die out in a mark at most. And then it would just be him and those yellow eyes.

His little yew-handled knife was clutched tightly in one hand, but Mika had no illusions of being able to defend himself. The cold was getting worse, too, the wind picking up. Tonight was surely his last night.

O – O – O – O

Rivven pounded through the snow as fast as he could, almost reckless in the heavy woods. He had left Haven almost two days ago, but not even a Companion could make good time in deep snow. Time was almost up, though, he could sense it. His Not-Yet-Chosen was slipping away like sand in an hourglass. Rivven wasn't even sure what to expect from his Chosen. No Companion was, not truly, until they came face to face for the first time. Rivven's Chosen was male, he knew that, and he could also make an educated guess at his Gifts, but that was only because of whom Rivven was, and whom his Chosen would one day be. Assuming Rivven got to him in time.

Rivven had been able to feel the boy's thoughts at the edge of his own. This spoke volumes about the boy's power and Gifts, and about their bond, but it also was an indicator of what a mess things were. The lad had thought of little else but doom and death for the last two days. Rivven was drawn to him like a moth to a candle, but those thoughts never faltered, if anything, they'd grown stronger. Now, though, that tickle of thought was growing lighter, as the boy himself was fading.

_::: Yuri, where are you and your Chosen?:::_ Rivven called out to the nearest Companion. Yuri, and her Chosen Tandi were on the Northern most circuit still regularly manned, or in this case, womaned.

_::: The waystation outside of North Haverbrook, why? What's wrong? You sound close,::: _Yuri's response was almost immediate. She was getting towards middle aged, and had always been serious and dutiful anyway.

_::: The Forest of Sorrows. I need you and your Chosen to come to me. Take the North loop West. Come as fast as you can, I'll direct you better when you get closer::: _Rivven left it at that, focusing all his energy on seeking out one small boy in the miles and miles of forest and snow. Rivven slowed his pace, paying close attention to that mystical tug inside him. He was getting closer, so much closer.

Rivven stopped a few feet from the edge of the clearing. Huge gray wolves paced the circumference. He could see them clearly and took a nervous step back. He was prey, after all, and although he could probably win, it would come at the cost of his Chosen. Of course, his Chosen hadn't been officially chosen yet, and the boy's death wouldn't kill Rivven himself, but the guilt very well may.

One of the wolves paused and looked at Rivven, it's iridescent eyes full of intellect. It seemed to nod once, then yipped to its pack mates, and just like that, trotted off to vanish into the forest. Rivven stood only a moment, sides heaving, to watch them go. He shook his head violently, causing the bells on his tack to jingle. The Forest of Sorrows clearly earned its reputation.

Not waiting a moment longer, Rivven walked carefully into the clearly, lifting and setting down each hoof with great care as he drew near the fire. In all this snow, the boy seemed to be half buried, and it took Rivven a moment to be able to see him. The fire was down to embers, and the boy was just a bump under the snow. Rivven leaned down, snuffling at the boy, whickering as the cold snow got up his nose. He gave Mika firm nudge.

_::: Wake, you must wake.:::_ he said in his firmest voice. The boy stirred, groaning softly, a sound full of misery. Rivven's heart went out to his soon to be Chosen. _::: Wake, you must!:::_ he could afford to be gentle though. If the boy died…

Mika rolled over slowly onto his back, blinking upwards at more white. White and blue. "Wha…?" Then that blue seemed to grab hold of him, and thoughts that hadn't even yet truly formed ground to a total halt as that blue swallowed him up, engulfed him, like the warmest, heaviest quilt.

_::: Mika'el V'Jordain, I am Rivven, and I have Chosen you:::_

"Ch-ch-chosen me?" Mika chattered. "Why would you do such a silly thing? I'm no Herald."

Rivven couldn't help but chuckle, just a little. No one ever believed that _they_ could be Chosen, but for Mika, it wasn't a matter of poor self esteem or modesty, the boy was just pragmatic enough to realize nothing about him seemed, outwardly, like Herald material. Although Rivven didn't yet know all about his newly Chosen, he was already sensing that Mika was right about that. He wasn't, physically, the most obvious choice for a Herald.

_::: Yes, I've Chosen you. You're very pragmatic though, and it will serve you well.:::_ Rivven eased down into the snow next to the boy. _::: Come closer. We can talk later. For now, we get you warm.:::_ Rivven inched closer, as Mika did his part, scooting over until he was curled against Rivven's side, his thin little body wracked with shivers. Rivven craned his head around and nuzzled Mika's knit cap. His Chosen. Finally, he was whole.

That thought, though, had a sharp barb to it. Mika wasn't well. Rivven could sense that, already their body growing. Mika was too distracted, to out of it, to be aware of what had passed between them, but Rivven felt it. He could already feel Mika's pain. His precious Chosen was also freezing to death. Slowly, yes, but it was only a matter of time. The boy couldn't mount up, not with out help, Rivven could tell that too. All he could do was lay with his beloved Chosen, and hope that Yuri and Tandi got here with all the speed of the gods.

_::: It's all right Mika, friend of my heart, it's okay. Whatever comes, neither of us will ever be alone again.:::_ And Rivven reflect, feeling whole in a way he never had before, even if they had only a few hours before the Shadow Lover came and took them, it would have been worth it.


	5. The Worst Day Since Yesterday

Disclaimer: Velgrath, Valdemar, and the general world in which this story takes place are not mine, nor am I making any money off of it. The characters are mine, however, and since someday I may make money off them, but am not at the moment, I ask that they are not used without my consent

Blackbird

Chapter Four: The Worst Day Since Yesterday

By: Irish

It was dawn again. Rivven whickered nervously, craning around to nudge his Chosen again. _::: Mika'el, Mika, dear heart,:::_ Rivven cajoled. _::: Please stay awake, Tandi and Yuri will be here soon, very soon, then we can be warm again:::_ He puffed warm air over Mika's pale face trying to help melt the little drops of ice that had frozen into his eyelashes.

"We?" Mika snorted feebly. "You feel warm enough to me,"

_::: Just my luck, I get the sassiest Chosen in Valdemar,:::_ Rivven teased back. For as fast as Mika was fading, he had a fighting spirit in him, and Rivven was nearly bursting with pride for his Chosen. Any of the faint doubt he'd had when he learned how physically weak his Chosen was, were banished completely by the skill and pluck with which the boy was handling his present situation.

"I'm also the smartest… and most modest," he replied with surety.

_::: Clearly,:::_ Rivven replied dryly, lipping affectionately at Mika's coat. He had seemed to accept the whole being Chosen issue in stride, not having any of the usual jumble of emotions of the newly Chosen. That would come later, the Companion supposed, once the more immediate crisis was resolved. Mika's ability to mindhear so clearly may also fade a bit once he was safe and warm, until he had gained more skill with his gifts anyway. _::: You were telling me about the book you were reading?::: _Rivven prompted. He had managed to keep Mika talking most of the night, although at times he had lapsed into unconsciousness or was rather incoherent from the cold. Rivven hadn't minded. He didn't need Mika's words to learn about him. As Mika spoke Rivven heard not just his words, but was able to follow all the tangential thoughts that trailed after them, the emotions and memories that rippled in the wake of what he said.

"Oh… was I…?" Mika trailed off, falling silent again. Rivven was about to start pestering him again when the boy finally spoke. "Rivven," he whispered, "Will they be here soon… I…" Mika's voice, already hoarse and weak, broke and he sniffled a little. "I can't think so well any more."

Rivven knew that to his dear Chosen that was a fate far worse then any physical injury he could suffer. The hypothermia that was affecting his mind scared him more then the wolves had. It was almost more then Rivven could bear, the fear and sorrow of his Chosen.

_::: Shh, dear heart, it's okay. They will be here very soon, you'll see, just a little bit longer. I promise, you'll be warm, and soon you can sleep in a nice soft bed and have anything you wish to eat, I promise, anything you want,:::_ Rivven vowed, willing to promise the moon and stars if it eased Mika's mind somewhat. _::: Yuri, you and Tandi need to be here, now!:::_

_::: We're close, less then a mark,:::_ Yuri replied. Rivven knew she was trying to be soothing, sensing Rivven's own growing panic, but he was in no mood to be soothed.

"Okay," Mika whispered, literally lifting his chin as he regathered his remaining strength. "I trust you, Rivven, I'll always trust you,"

True to her word, Yuri arrived with Tandi in under a mark, but Rivven was pretty sure that it was barely under the mark in question. There was no point in saying so though, because all that mattered was that they were here now, and besides, Yuri had done her absolute best and was in no way at fault for the length of time it took them to arrive. Tandi was a lean woman just shy of middle age, strands of gray in a mop of otherwise brown curls. She dismounted before Yuri even came to a full stop, scrambling through the deep snow, over to Rivven and Mika.

"Mika'el?" She called, brush the snow away from him, finding his face under the layers of clothes and snow. She patted it firmly, almost a slap, to wake him. His dark eyes opened in a startled flash and he made an indignant sound.

"Why hello there, little herald, my name is Herald Tandi," she smiled warmly at Mika, who seemed confused. "Yuri and I are so glad we found you! We need to get you warm quick, so I'm going to wrap you in some more blankets and Yuri is going to lay down with you as well, so we'll make you into a Mika'el sandwich, okay?"

She waited just long enough for him to nod before she was up again, taking supplies off of Yuri's back. She had a large roll of blankets and Rivven realized she must have taken everything even remotely blanket like out of the waystation she was staying in.

With efficiency of movement, Tandi wrapped Mika in several more blankets. At the center of the roll of blankets was a clay pot, probably meant for baking with coals. Tandi had ingeniously placed coals from her own fire inside of it, along with several rocks. The hot rocks she wrapped within the layers of blankets she wrapped around Mika, and Rivven made a mental note to thank her profusely for her ingeniousness. Once she had Mika all wrapped up accept for his nose and eyes, she had him wiggle a hand out, just a little.

"Here, eat this. You may be so hungry right now that you actually don't want food, but you need it. This will help. Eat, while I put up some shelter for us." And then she was up and gone again, as Yuri settled close to Rivven, Mika pressed between their big warm bodies.

"What…?" Mika asked. Rivven knew he meant the square of food about the size of his palm he'd just been handed.

_::: High energy rations, crushed oats and nuts with dried fruit, probably apple and cranberries or grapes, pressed together with honey. I believe you're used to something similar, but with long grain rice and molasses or maple syrup.:::_ Rivven replied. _::: I know I don't need to tell you how important it is to eat.:::_

Mika nodded a little, knowing full well that he needed food to help him warm up. He nibbled at the sticky square at first, but after the first few nibbles was wolfing it down, which eased Rivven's worry just a little. If he could manage that much enthusiasm for food, he still had a fighting chance. He even licked at the stickiness from the honey left on his mitten.

_::: There, now, beloved, don't you feel better already?:::_ Rivven murmured, nuzzling what he guessed to be Mika's shoulder through all the blankets. Mika replied, but it was little more then a muffled grunt through the blankets. Rivven understood it as an affirmative, though.

Tandi was erecting a small two-person tent out of canvas and the long straight branches she had cut from the trees around them with her little hand axe. Rivven noted with approval, again, the efficiency of her movements. It was in very short order that she had the small tent erected and was coming back over to the Companion/Mika'el sandwich.

"I'm sorry you two, you're going to have to suffer outside for a few hours, but it isn't too cold for the likes of you," she smiled at Rivven and her own Companion, pushing a mop of curls out of her face. "Mika'el, dear, we're going to try and get you into that tent and bring as little snow in with you as possible. I've laid down the furs that I brought with me over the canvas floor, so you'll be off the cold ground."

Mika's dark eyes peered out from the small gap in his blankets and he nodded slightly, his lenses not even fogging from his breathing, that's how cold he was. Bundled as he was he was almost completely useless, his arms tucked inside the blankets, his legs useless anyway. Tandi crouched down and grabbed a handful of blanket on either side of him, and then dragged him through the snow over to the tent. If it hurt, the boy gave no indication of it.

With much awkwardness and effort and a lot of help from Tandi, Mika managed to wiggle himself into the small tent, leaving the outer blanket he had been wrapped in outside. There was indeed a nice pile of furs and old horse blankets lining the floor and Mika settled atop them. It certainly wasn't the featherbed Rivven had promised, but at the moment, it felt like it.

Tandi closed up the tent as quick as she could. She wanted to start a fire and boil some water, she also wanted to confer with the Companions. She crouched down a few feet from the tent, where the ashes of Mika's fire had been.

_::: Yuri, would you see if Rivven would join us? I need to know what he knows about the condition of his Chosen. His hurt and cold, but I can't tell much else right now, and I want to know what I'm getting into before I start.:::_

Yuri gave a general agreement, and then went quiet, speaking with Rivven. After a moment, both of the big white Companions came over to stand close to Tandi.

_::: Rivven says that the boy's legs are both broken, in the long bone of the upper leg. The boy doesn't know that though, he thinks his pain is from a more chronic problem that Rivven would not expand on. He says if the boy argues with you, about whether or not his legs are actually broken, that you need to explain it to him and show him, or he's going to fight you on it.:::_

"Is he now?" Tandi looked up at Rivven, pausing her work of arranging the branches she'd gathered. "Bit contrary is he?"

Rivven snorted disgustedly and shook his head so the metal d-rings in his hackamore jangled, he even went so far as to kick up a bit of snow. Tandi ignored him, letting him show his displeasure, but not responding to it. He could get as huffy as he wanted, this kid was starting to sound like a lot of extra work.

Tandi got a fire started, which was easy enough with the coals left in the clay pot that she'd brought from the waystation. She'd really rather have brought the boy straight back there, but his legs needed to be splinted and he needed to be warmed. She hoped those hot rocks were doing the trick.

Once she hat the fire going she warmed some more stones, while boiling water and doing some other "housekeeping" activities, making sure the Companions were as comfortable as they were going to get, each of them with a blanket over their backs and necks, that the fire was going to continue without tending for a bit once she went into the tent. She hoped Mika'el was doing all right, but didn't want to let out whatever heat the tent had managed to retain by opening the flap just to poke her head in. She waited until she was ready to settle inside herself, before once again opening the flap, slipping in as quickly as she could and lacing it back up.

The next few hours were extremely unpleasant for both Mika'el and Tandi. He tried to be a brave little solider, he really did, but the setting of the breaks in his legs had been enough to spiral him into blackout for, Tandi told him, almost half a mark. Tandi hadn't liked causing him pain any more then he liked to be in it. Even once the bones were set, Mika was uncomfortable, there was a very uncomfortable pins and needles feeling all over his body as his blood slowly warmed, and it was painful in its own right. Not to mention that he just plain hurt, all over. He was getting warm though, and his belly was once again full. Tandi at put one of the ration bars in her tin cup with boiling water, turning it into a sort of hot mash, that Mika had eaten rather greedily. He slept a bit as well, once he was splinted and fed, and starting to warm. Tandi only let them rest until the next morning though, and then she was packing up what few things she had with her and helping Mika bundle up in all his clothes, and several blankets. The tent became a travois that he was settled on, and pulled by Rivven.

If any of them, Tandi, Mika, Rivven or Yuri, had thought that last night was bad, the trip back to the waystation was worse. Mika felt every single bump in the ground all the way there, even with Rivven moving very slowly. Tandi had tried to find a better way to carry the injured lad, but the deep snow made it all but impossible for the two companions to move in step together, so making the travois a stretch carried between the two was not an option and the travois wasn't solid enough to be dragged flat like a sled. Tandi made a mental note to stock waystations up north with sleds. The entire rescue mission would have gone worlds smoother with a sled.

Mika had taken as much of his pain killing herb as he dared, and he was still a cold, aching, miserable jumble by the time they got to the waystation. Rivven had done his best to help Mika block some of the pain, but there was really little to be done for it. The only good news was that Rivven was able to walk backwards into the waystation so that Tandi was able to mostly just roll Mika onto the remade nest of furs and blankets he'd rested on in the tent.

_::: Dear goddess, that is one tough little trainee,:::_ Tandi observed to Yuri. She had already built up the fire inside the waystation and was the travois from Rivven, before they all went inside as well. _::: There aren't many boys that could have survived all that, let alone manage to keep a stoic façade.:::_

_::: Stoic might be overstating it,:::_ Yuri snorted. _::: but he's at least been quiet about his hurts. Rivven's been very close-mouthed about him. You'd think he'd want word to get back to Haven quickly, all things considered.:::_

Tandi shrugged, not really responding in words. She didn't feel like she was in any position to question the actions of anyone in the Circle, Companions included. They all did what they did hoping it was for the best. If Rivven didn't want to send word to Haven about his Chosen, that was his business.

Once the Companions were both inside and taken care of, Tandi turned her attention once again to Mika. The weather really wasn't that cold for Northern Valdemar, and the waystation heated quite quickly from the fire and she dared, for the first time, completely unwrap the boy. He was very pliant, only half conscious, his pain evident in how heavy he was breathing. She took off all the blankets she'd wrapped him in, then worked on the gear she'd found him in, checking his fingers, toes, ears and nose, for evidence of severe frostbite. Whoever had made his mittens and boots, though, had done a very diligent job and the layers of leather and fur had prevented any serious damage. Under his coat he had on several layers. She didn't strip him down entirely, but when she was done he was left only in a sleeveless under tunic and trews, working the splints carefully so that she could undress him but not have to resplint him. If he became more aware at any point during the entire process, he showed no signs of it.

When she was done, she bundled him up tight again, making sure the fire was well built, before she patted his cheek firmly, trying to wake him. "Mika'el, I'm going for a healer, I'm leaving some food and water near at hand, as well as the tea kettle and such. Hopefully I won't be gone long, but it could be over night."

Mika watched her with dark eyes, his vision blurry, as she had removed his lenses and set them aside. He nodded slowly, making no attempt to speak. He wasn't too thrilled that she was leaving but he saw the sense in it too.

Yuri hadn't even been untacked, and Tandi had packed just a few supplies for herself and was out the waystation door in very short order. Rivven lay down next to him, adding another source of warmth. He was no longer severely hypothermic, but he was still plenty cold.

_::: Usually there is a very different procedure for this,::: _Rivven told him, _::: You see, it's rare that a newly Chosen boy or girl can hear their Companions so easily and readily. Usually it takes time and training to develop your Gifts. Don't be alarmed, in fact, if we grow less able to communicate as your situation becomes less perilous.:::_

"You mean, we won't be able to talk any more?" Mika rasped, his hoarse voice not at all concealing how much that upset him.

_::: Only for a time, we'll still be able to communicate somewhat, and always in trance, but your very strong ability to hear me mind to mind might fade for a time. On the other hand, it may not at all. Don't worry about that though, it will play out however it plays out, and honestly there is nothing you or I can do to change it.:::_

"I see…" Mika frowned, wiggling as much as the blankets allowed him to, trying to find a comfortable position to lie in.

_::: There is more, thought. I only bring up the mind speech tangentially. Usually, the newly Chosen are whisked away to Haven almost the instant they are Chosen, and little is explained to them in any detail until they reach the castle. Considering the situation, obviously whisking you away to Haven wasn't an option, and I'd rather not keep secrets from you, as it may take us weeks or months to return.:::_ Rivven's mindvoice was a midrange baritone that Mika found very pleasant and soothing. He had a tone of sort of an anxious chagrin to his words though.

"What bush is it that you are beating around?" Mika asked, craning his head to look at his companion as sternly as he could manage.

_::: No bush, it's just that this is a very delicate situation…:::_ Rivven hedged. _::: Its unfortunate that things are as they are,:::_ he sighed, a bit wistfully. _::: Usually the first few days after Choosing are a blissful time of bonding. For us, unfortunately, we've been working since the moment we met in one way or another. Hopefully we will have a more peaceful time of it from now on though.:::_

"Is that bad? I mean, will we not be as—" Mika searched for a word "—good because we haven't exactly be left in peace?" His own tone was now rather anxious. He was groggy from the pain, the cold, and what he'd taken to ease both, and everything seemed more dramatic then it probably actually was.

_::: No no, not at all. No, our bond will be very strong regardless.::: _Rivven sighed deeply, his sides inflating and deflating. _::: I think this can all wait though, rest now, sleep. This can be our quiet time.:::_ He nibbled at Mika's dark hair affectionately. Although Mika was very intrigued by what cryptic hints Rivven had been dropping, he felt very sleepy, and with Rivven lying against his back, he also felt very safe. Far more safe then he'd felt even with his mother. He sighed deeply too, as his eyes drifted shut.

"Okay… but when I wake…"

_::: Yes my dear little chosen, when you wake,:::_ Rivven affirmed. As Mika drifted off, he could hear the strains of a soft lullaby in his mind.

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit of a slow spot, but hopefully things will pick up again next chapter, we can't have the whole thing be drama and dying after all! Hope everyone had a very happy holiday(s).


	6. New Strength

Disclaimer: Velgrath, Valdemar, and the general world in which this story takes place are not mine, nor am I making any money off of it. The characters are mine, however, and since someday I may make money off them, but am not at the moment, I ask that they are not used without my consent

Blackbird

Chapter Five: New Strength

By: Irish

Mika woke with a bit of a start, having to look around the fuzzy waystation for long moments before he remembered what had happened. He wasn't at his mother's inn; he wasn't even in his village, maybe not even in his province anymore.

_::: Your not, actually, you crossed the boarder while still with your father.::: _Rivven said the word "father" with the deepest contempt. Mika jumped to hear Rivven's voice in his mind again, having somewhat forgotten that he had been Chosen.

"Oh," Mika managed. "Well, I've always wanted to travel." He worked his way up into a sitting position, splinted legs sticking straight out in front of him. He sighed, looking at his useless legs. "Of course, this wasn't exactly how I envisioned it going."

_::: Things rarely come out as we plan. There's a Shin-a-in proverb that says "a battle plan never lasts past the first engagement", or something of that nature. All contingencies can't be planned for.:::_ Rivven replied.

"You're supposed to be telling me something," Mika demanded, sensing the same cryptic have references in the way Rivven mind spoke. Mika was learning that lying mind to mind was very difficult indeed, as even though Rivven was surely a far more accomplished mindspeaker then he, Rivven couldn't fully hide whatever it was he was trying to.

_::: Yes, but first, you need to eat and wash and such, as do I. Once we're settled again I'll tell you.:::_ Rivven was carefully standing up, a neat trick in the small waystation. Before Mika could really launch a protest, Rivven was managing to work the lever handle of the door with his nose and let himself outside.

Mika frowned deeply at Rivven's retreating rear. He sensed that he and Rivven couldn't truly bond as Rivven had spoken of until whatever Rivven was dancing around was out in the open. Mika wasn't even entirely sure what Rivven meant by "bond", but assumed it had to do with whatever it was that caused Heralds to die if their Companions did.

Left with little other choice, Mika took care of business, washing up from the bucket of luke-warm water Tandi had left near at hand, making more hot mush out of the high-energy rations. Really it made quite a good porridge. Rivven cam back in just as he was starting to eat, and settled behind him once again as a large white backrest, which Mika was very grateful for. He leaned back against his Companion as he ate, waiting expectantly. Rivven sighed, rocking Mika forward as his sides expanded, which made the boy giggle just a little. The Companion craned his neck around to lip at his tunic affectionately, warmed by the first show of joy from his Chosen.

_::: I suppose I must tell you, if for no other reason then you'll never leave me in peace until I do. I know your village has not had a Healer nor Herald since you were born, and only very rarely a bard, which has left you very cut off from the kingdom. Trust me, that is a situation that will not stand.:::_ The Holderkin in the South were nothing but a bunch of ornery cusses who would rather they were left to their own devices entirely, but from what Rivven had learned from Mika over the past two days, those of Falcons Pass, the Falekin, were quite the opposite, yet had almost no support from their kingdom in fourteen years.

"We only have a bonesaws and a couple midwives ," Mika agreed.

_::: Well, at least you have that much. I suppose that's why, though, your community has managed to get by and doesn't complain loudly at court or cause trouble. Regardless. I know you're not ignorant of Valdemar, as you clearly know what I am and as much about how Choosing works as any youngster does. But your news can't be that recent.:::_

"I suppose not," Mika shrugged. "We send some men down to Stoltown every two years with our taxes and census to meet the tax collector when he comes. But that's as often as we get news. Maybe a bit more, with the occasional traveler or small company of guard."

_::: Well, that's better then never,::: _Rivven paused_ ::: Your people not only pay taxes… but also bring them to be paid?::: _ He said with astonishment. They had received no services from the kingdom, the tax collectors didn't even come that far north, and they paid their tithe anyway?

"Of course, we're citizens aren't we?" Now Mika paused, "Aren't we?" he repeated, less rhetorically.

_::: Of course you are, dear heart, of course. I'm surprised there isn't a stream of Chosen coming out of Falcon's Pass. There should be.:::_ Rivven sensed in his Chosen a pride at being a citizen of Valdemar, and a dedication that wasn't just the kind normally found in Heralds, but one that ran through his entire community. Rivven made a mental note to find out more about the Falekin later, for now though…

_::: I'm sorry, I've digressed again. My point is, you probably haven't heard yet, there has been intrigue and murder at court. It's been a right mess…:::_ Rivven's voice had grown very serious. _::: Chaos is almost a better word. King Lyran was assassinated almost two years ago. His wife, Chandra, had held a rather awkward role of both King's own and Queen. Since she couldn't be advisor to herself, and her Companion at the time had no intention of Choosing again, her son, Garth, was put on the throne at fourteen, haven been Chosen within hours of his father's death.:::_

Mika was listening intently. He had known that King Lyran had died, but when they had gotten the news, it had been very soon after his death, and they had not known that it was an assassination, and had assumed his wife had become reigning monarch. That was rather awkward, Mika reflected, to have been praying for the strength and foresight of the queen, when all along it had been a king.

"So Prince Garth is now King Garth, and his mother is… what?" Mika asked.

_::: Mostly King's Own, still. However, since Garth isn't married she technically still holds the title of queen as well, especially since Garth isn't actually a herald yet, he's a trainee and has no vote in Counsel. Have I mentioned what a mess this is? I'm not even done yet,::: _Rivven's sides heaved again as he gave a long sigh. _::: Chandra was also killed, assassinated, about a month ago. Her companion Kaya survived, but whatever happened was so terrible that Kaya cannot speak of it, and cannot Choose again. The latter is Companion business and not yours, but suffice to say she still lingers, advising Garth's Companion, Treyvan, but she isn't long for this world.:::_

"I'm sorry," Mika said sincerely. There had been a lot of death in court it seemed, and Mika gathered that Rivven and Kaya were friends. He didn't entirely understand what all this had to do with him though. Even though he was now Chosen and would assumably have to be part of this mess eventually, surely it would be sorted out by the time he got his whites?

_::: Gods I hope so. But there is a very specific reason I tell you all this.:::_ but to Mika's frustration, instead of telling the great secret, Rivven sidestepped again, asking him something completely unrelated.

_::: Do you know how we know who the Monarchs Own is?:::_ Rivven paused, and Mika shook his head. _::: A grove-born Companion always chooses the Monarchs Own. A Companion who didn't come about in the usual way, with a mother and father and such, but a very special Companion who comes to the grove as an adult. More or less.:::_ Rivven paused again, but if Mika was starting to draw the connections he gave no indication of it.

_::: I am grove-born, Mika'el. Although Kaya has not passed yet, I have come to make my Choice, and it is you I have Chosen. Kaya is not long for this world. When she passes, then it will be you who is King's Own.:::_

Mika remained silent for long, long moments, until Rivven started to grow concerned. He nudged Mika's shoulder gently. _::: Mika are you okay?:::_

"I am to be King's Own? I'm to advise the king?" Mika asked, his voice very low.

_::: Yes, Mika, it is you. You will be king's own.:::_ Rivven replied gravely.

"But… I mean… You know I'm crippled right?" Mika's voice was nervous and skeptical at the same time, as he inched around a little bit to look at Rivven better. "You know I can't walk."

_::: I do know. I didn't until I Chose you, but I do now, and it doesn't change my mind a bit.:::_ Rivven replied. _::: I won't tell you it's going to be easy. We've never had a crippled Herald. Of course, there have been Heralds who have been crippled in the line of duty but that is quite different. No exceptions will be made for you either, Mika'el. You will have to find a way to do all the things all the other trainees do, including arms training. In fact, part of your job is to be able to physically defend the king.::: _

"Are you insane!" Mika exploded. "Arms training? _Arms_ training? I can't even walk! I mean, riding is hard enough, but a sword?!" Mika's heart sunk. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it, and Rivven would unchoose him, and he'd lose Rivven and… and…

_::: No. No Mika, I would _never_ repudiate you, never, and certainly not because you're a little different. No, you _can_ do, chosen, I know that you can. Look, look at what you've done already. You've survived days in the winter wilderness. Even many boys without two broken legs and a weak constitution couldn't manage that. You did it with two legs that were lame and broken. You didn't give up, even when you were sure that you would die.:::_

"That's different, Rivven, it didn't matter if I failed, it was only my life at stake. If I'd had actually fight those wolves, I wouldn't have even nicked one of them." Mika responded, picking up his little yew handled knife from amongst his clothes near by, looking at it.

_::: But you would have tried, wouldn't have you? You would have fought and fought with everything you had.::: _Rivven said doggedly. He knew his Chosen could do it, but his Chosen had to be willing to try first. If Mika put his mind to it, he would find a way.

"Well of course, but—"

_::: No buts. Before anyone, anyone at all, even the greatest of warriors, can have skill, they need to have, drive, motivation, determination. You have all those things! I know you think you are weak, but you are not. You are able to walk a little, aren't you? You're able to use your arms to support most of your weight, right?:::_

"Well, yes, but—"

_::: And you're smart, yes? You figure out different ways to do things all the time. You've wrestled with your brother plenty, right?:::_ Rivven persisted.

"Okay, but—"

_::: Mika, if you put your mind to it, I know you can do it. You will be able to have the services of Healers now, it may be that they're able to improve the condition of your legs so you can walk a little better.:::_

Mika sighed deeply. "Alright… I… I'll try. I'll try and find a way." Mika relented. He still wasn't sure, but he wouldn't know unless he tried, that's what his mother would tell him. She'd tell him to try anyway. She had done that all his life. When he was three and still not walking she simply told him he was too big to be carried, and that if he wanted to leave his blanket, he'd just have to find away. She'd walked away then, watching out of the corner of her eye all day as he struggled and struggled. He'd screamed and cried, but she hadn't relented, not even a moment. She had brought him his lunch, there on the blanket he had played on the first three years of his life, his world mostly ending at the edges, but she told him he'd have to come get his dinner at the table.

In retrospect, Mika thought she didn't actually expect him to walk, but to find a way to crawl, or drag himself along, or whatever. Mika didn't even remember how he got to his feet, but he had finally found a way, taking slow staggering steps, more wobbly then a newborn colt. When she had seen him trying, she'd knelt down a few feet away, holding her arms open to him.

That was his first memory, struggling so hard all day, then walking to his mother, arms outstretched. He'd made it the few steps to her arms, and she'd hugged him so tight.

_"See, my little gift, you can do anything, anything at all. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise!"_ She had said, kissing his face all over as she hugged him. By the time he was five, he had been moving around the entire inn, even up and down the stairs. It was hard, painful work, but Mika had done it anyway. There had been other times, all through out his life, where his mother simply refused to do it for him, and he'd had to learn. And he had.

_::: You see, Chosen? You see? You can do it. You will find away.::: _Rivven paused, looking at his chosen in a sly way. _::: Besides, they'll all tell you that you can't, you know. The arms teacher will probably refuse to teach you at first.:::_

"He wouldn't dare!" Mika's voice was so very indignant it was all Rivven could do not to laugh. A moment ago, he swore he couldn't do it, the moment someone else said he couldn't though, Mika was sure he could. "Well, then I guess I'll just have to show him."

_::: You'll show them all, my little love, you'll show them all.:::_

- O – O – O – O – O -

Authors note: I wasn't sure if I should stop here or continue a bit longer. I decided to stop here so that I could change the pacing a little next chapter. Hopefully this wasn't too dull. Now, a few housekeeping things that I've been neglecting. First, wolves would never attack humans. There is no verified wolf attacks in recorded history on humans when the wolf has been, for lack of a better word, sane. There has been less half a dozen wolf attacks by wolves who were unwell (unwell is defined as unacclimaited to humans, and without plastic poisoning, rabies, etc.). Secondly, the typical way to warm a hypothermia victim, as Mika was, is by two people getting mostly naked and under wraps with the victim. It is generally not recommended that one person attempt this, as the hypothermic victim may actually leach so much heat their intended rescuer also becomes hypothermic.


	7. On the Road Again

Disclaimer: Velgrath, Valdemar, and the general world in which this story takes place are not mine, nor am I making any money off of it. The characters are mine, however, and since someday I may make money off them, but am not at the moment, I ask that they are not used without my consent 

Blackbird

Chapter Six: On the Road Again

By: Irish

"So you see, usually a trainee like yourself is whisked away by his or her companion, and brought straight to Haven. If it's a long distance, as it will be for you, the Companion will stop at towns and villages along the way. Not every night, mind you, but if a waystation can't be found, or if they are running low on supplies." Tandi explained as she turned the spit for the wild turkey she'd found. The juices were fragrant and dribbled off the roasting bird to spatter and hiss in the fire.

"When they stop somewhere, they're given chits by the guard, and those towns that have helped the trainee will get a tax break. I'm not sure what we're going to do with you though." She observed, glancing at him.

Mika was feeling much better, overall. His hypothermia hadn't developed into the fever he had feared it would. Tandi had brought the Healer two days ago, a very large bearded man who looked more like a bear than a person. He'd spent two days speed healing Mika's legs. They weren't totally healed though, and he still couldn't walk. He'd put on better splints though, that allowed Mika to bend his knees a bit.

"What do you mean you don't know what you're going to do with me?" Mika asked, with a frown. He was eternally grateful to Tandi, but he wasn't too sure he liked her much. She was very brisk in a way that Mika felt bordered on rude, and she seemed to feel like he was a pain in the posterior.

_::: It's not personal,:::_ Rivven interjected, _::: she's just not very good with children. Not all Heralds are, though it's a common misconception.:::_

Mika glanced at Rivven, but didn't reply. He didn't have the knack for speaking back with his mind, and Rivven had said he wasn't sure if it was that Mika lacked that Gift, or if he simply hadn't developed it yet.

"Well, you can't very well ride, now can you? I honestly don't know what to do about it. Rivven won't let Yuri send word back to Haven so that maybe someone could come retrieve you, and I've got a circuit to complete." Tandi shrugged, her eyes on her work. Mika sat in silence a long time. Tandi was right, he couldn't just stay in this waystation until he healed, and although he could find a way, by travois again if he had to, to get to the nearest healing temple, Mika was starting to feel a certain impatience from Rivven. Not with him, but an urge to get back to Haven and quickly. The Healer had said it would take weeks to heal, because they couldn't go about speed healing him every day. For one, it was very hard on growing bodies. For two, the Healer said he wouldn't exhaust himself, because what if someone needed him far more urgently.

He understood that entirely, and was in no way offended. Broken bones didn't really need Healer at all, they generally mended just fine as long as they were set decently. That still didn't solve his current predicament.

"I think I can ride," Mika said slowly. "Not regular, but…" Mika paused and bit his lip. He truly hated to suggest this, it would look so silly!

_::: It's a good idea, Chosen. People will be impressed with your determination, too much so to care about it not being considered "manly". Who even decides what's appropriate for a certain gender anyway? No one, that's who. Go on now, tell her.:::: _Rivven urged.

"Side saddle," he finally sighed.

Tandi looked up once again, pushing her curls from her face. "Side saddle? You mean like those silly foppy ladies at court?"

"Well, I don't know about that. But there's some women, who are very strict in their devotion to The Book, who won't wear pants, and they ride sidesaddle, they even hunt when they have to." Mika glanced at Rivven again, pleading for some help.

"Well, there isn't—" Tandi stopped mid sentence, her face going kind of funny, which meant she was talking to Yuri. Her eyes flicked across the fire to Mika several times and she shook her head, then shot Rivven a very dirty look. "Well, I guess Rivven has put his hoof down. He says that he thinks it's a brilliant plan, and that you're going to leave tomorrow. I think that's bloody stupid Rivven, but I'm not about to fight you on it. He's your Chosen, and I guess that's that."

Rivven snorted and stamped a hoof on the wooden floor. _::: She's damn right you're my Chosen. It would be one thing if you weren't used to this kind of weather, or weren't used to being in pain, but you're both. You're ready to go and we both know it. You're going to have to find a way to ride to the next town with the regular saddle, but then we'll find you a side saddle.::_ Rivven sounded very indignant about Tandi's response, and Mika reached over to scratch the crest of his neck to sooth him.

"It's okay Herald Tandi. It would be different, if I was a normal trainee and hurt like I am, but I'm not. I'm supposed to be King's Own, or so Rivven says. People won't know that now, but they will soon enough. I don't want to be the trainee who had to be bundled in a cart the whole way to Haven. I think people will doubt my abilities as it is…" Mika offered it as sort of a suggestion, as though he were just realizing this now. That wasn't the case at all. It had been percolating at the back of his mind for some time now. Rivven had been talking to him about some of his duties, and although he didn't exactly need popular support in the kingdom, Mika figured not needing didn't mean not having it didn't matter.

_::: You're right, it does matter. Your mouth will one day be closest to the king's ear. With as much scandal and mayhem as there has been, the more you can impress the common person, the better off we'll all be.:::_ As always, Mika and Rivven were on the same page, which pleased both of them to no end. Mika was thrilled to finally have someone who truly understood him. Rivven was more proud of his Chosen every hour, as he proved he had more then enough foresight and mettle to be King's Own.

- o – o – o – o – o -

Mika had gotten himself ready the next morning, bundling up once more in his many layers. Tandi had helped get Rivven tacked up, Mika's saddlebags emptied and repacked into the ones that Rivven had with his tack. After that though, she stood back and watched, her arms crossed skeptically. Mika thought out the situation carefully, and had ended up using his arms to scoot on his arse across the floor and out the door. Rivven had knelt down just outside the door, although managing to get his leg swung around to the far side had been harder then Mika had expected, and had involved a lot of undignified squirming. He'd managed it though. Rivven then stood up, easy as anything and they were on their way.

If it wasn't for Rivven smooth stride, Mika might have given up just a couple miles up the road. As it was, he still bounced around a bit in the saddle, unable to ride properly, his legs splinted and stiff on either side of Rivven. His hips started to hurt almost immediately, quickly followed by his legs near the breaks.

_::: We're almost there, Mika. We'll be there before sunset.::: _Rivven said. It was the first town since the waystation, and under normal circumstances would have been only a couple hours as the Companion runs. As it was, it had taken all morning because Rivven was going very slowly to keep things as smooth as possible.

As promised, they arrived in Winterbrook an hour or two before sunset. There was no guard here at all, but the townsfolk recognized a Companion when they saw one, and Mika and Rivven had drawn a decent crowd by the time they stopped in front of the tiny inn, which was really more of a tavern that happen to have a couple guest rooms.

"Oh my, a newly Chosen! We haven't had one of those through in years!"

"Welcome boy! What's happened to your legs? Are you hurt?"

"Get him down out of the saddle, Darvy, he'll surely need help. What's your name boy?"

The last was a rather hunched older woman with iron gray hair. A man, who Mika assumed was Darvy, came forward, reaching up to Mika. Mika hesitated a moment, before leaning over and letting Darvy lift him down out of the saddle.

"Uh, thank you," Mika said awkwardly, as Darvy continued to hold onto his sides, holding him right off the ground, at arms length.

"Well don't just stand there with him, bring him in and set him down!" The woman commanded. Mika looked at Rivven Nervously, as Darvy headed for the inn, still holding him at arms length as though he smelled funny.

_::: It's all right, Chosen, they mean well, they won't harm you. I'll be just fine. Trust me, they'll be tripping all over themselves to look after me.:::_

The large man set Mika down a bit roughly on a bench, and Mika rather thought the man might be a bit simple minded. "Uh, thank you," he said again, before looking around at the crowd that had pushed their way into the inn. He was starting to feel like a spectacle.

The woman who seemed to be in some sort of authority started to shoo folks out though, and it wasn't too long before the main room of the inn was fairly quiet. Mika watched with wary eyes as Darvy turned and walked silently back to the kitchen.

"Oh don't mind Darvy, he's my son, a bit simple. The big ones often are." She shrugged a bit. "Welcome to Winterbrook, boy, what's your name?"

"Mika'el V'Jordain," Mika replied softly, chewing his lip a bit. He wished Rivven could have come in with him.

"My that's a mouthful for a slip of a lad like yourself. Oh, you're right tall enough, but turn sideways and I won't be able to sees ya," she laughed, clucking her tongue. "Well, Mika'el V'Jordain, you can stay here tonight. You're all splinted up I see, and it's good work, so obviously someone's been seeing to ya, and you're fit enough to ride. We'll put together some things and send you out in the morning. Oh, and you can just call me Ma' the whole village does."

Mika cleared his throat. He had no intention of calling her any such. "Thank you. There is something in particular I need though." He swallowed. Saddles were very expensive and it was a big thing to ask, and it such a little town, they probably wouldn't even have what he needed, or it wouldn't fit Rivven.

"Go on then, boy, what is it? Don't you worry, we get plenty in return for helping you, so unless it's a golden chamber pot, not to worry." Ma said, a big smile on her weathered face.

"I need a saddle, a side saddle," Mika said finally.

"Oh I see, oh sure, I bet that's easier with your less as they are, hmm? Well, I can't make no promises, but I'll see what I can do."

It turned out that Ma could do plenty, and while Mika ate the bland but hearty stew with the dark slices of bread as big as his hand and twice as thick that Darvy brought him, Ma was busy. As Mika politely accepted the pocket full of maple sweets some of the children brought him, Ma still hadn't reappeared. He just sat quietly, once the children left, sucking on one of the sweets as he watched the fire. He was eager to lie down, but it was really only just dinnertime now.

When Ma returned, Mika had fallen into a doze, resting his head on the table. She tapped his shoulder gently. "Well boy, it took some doing, but we found what ya need, and we checked to be sure it fits your handsome white out there, and it does. Close enough for government work, least wise."

"Really?" Mika asked fuzzily. "Oh, that's wonderful! Thank you!"

"Not at all, boy, now, you're straight for your bed. Do ya need Darvy to carry ya?"

"No, that's alright. I can manage now, with things to hold onto,"

Mika bade her good night, and managed to move from table to table, as he had so many times in his mother's in, almost all his weight on his arms. He had to scoot on his bum up the stairs, which was undignified to say the least, but better then being carried by Darby. Upstairs, one of the two little rooms already had a fire lit, and Mika assumed it was for him. He scooted across the wooden floor to his room and pulled himself to sit on the narrow bed.

_::: Well then, I'd say we've done quite well for our first day, Chosen, and tomorrow will be even easier.:::_ Rivven reassured him. Mika sighed, but pushed aside his worry. Today had been hard. He was exhausted already, and this was only their first day. If it didn't get easier, Mika feared that Tandi might have been right.

Mika fell asleep almost the moment he lay down.

Rivven woke him very early the next morning with a mental prod. _::: Wake up, little love, it's barely dawn, but you went to bed plenty early. It's best we get moving as soon as we can:::_

Mika was reluctant to wake, but Rivven wouldn't even allow him to doze a moment more, and so he finally got moving. It wasn't so much that he was tired, though he was that as well, but he was ungodly sore. His legs, of course, but now his back, arms and shoulders burned as well, as he was forced to use them even more then he was used to. He managed though, and was up, dressed, fed and on Rivven's back before dawn was more then a few streaks in the sky.

Authors Note: Urgh, I'm sorry, I'm really struggling with pacing! Consider this chapter a little sort of bridge, so that I can get on with it! Stick with me, I promise it will get better again. I thought about spending more time to improve this chapter, but honestly I've been working on it for a few days and this is just the best of use of my time, one bad chapter to I can get to a better one. Anyway, thank you so much all of you who are reviewing me and reading. It's fun to hear from everyone and what they think. I've had a few surprises from you all so far and I'm hoping you're continuing to enjoy my work.


	8. Hell and Haven

Disclaimer: Velgrath, Valdemar, and the general world in which this story takes place are not mine, nor am I making any money off of it. The characters are mine, however, and since someday I may make money off them, but am not at the moment, I ask that they are not used without my consent

Blackbird

Chapter Seven: Hell and Haven

By: Irish 

The city roared around Mika like a flooded river, and he felt just as awash in the press of people as he would have in river rapids. He sat in Rivven's saddle as though he'd been slapped with a cold fish; stiff, slightly slack jawed, with an offended expression.

"Wh-what _is _this place?" He whispered under his breath, his head craning from side to side so quickly that it looked in danger of spinning right off his shoulders. Rivven's ears flicked back at him, easily able to catch his words.

_:This is Haven, little love. The capitol.:_ Rivven replied calmly.

"This?" Mika's alarm grew with every moment, especially as people started to stare. It wasn't too worthy of note to see a somewhat grubby boy or girl atop a Companion. No small number of them came in with the same shell-shocked expression. The side saddle that Mika had acquired in the first town they'd stopped in stood out though, very different in color and shape from the usual Companion tack. It was enough to make a fair number of people double take.

_:Yes, Chosen, this is Haven. We're just on the outskirts though. It thins out a bit by the time we get up to the castle and collegiums grounds.:_

"Oh," Mika said faintly. He tried to steady himself, steel himself, they were almost at the end of their journey. There was just this one last gauntlet to run. Nervously, he pulled up the hood of his coat. It wasn't that cold, by any means, in fact the only reason Mika wore it was because it was easier than carrying., but it would hide his face, protect him from the world around him a little.

_:It's okay, we'll be there by dinner. Then you can have a warm bath, and that soft bed I promised you back in the Forest of Sorrows. I'm told the collegium food is quite good, too. We'll tell the cook about not eating pork or mixing meat and dairy. I bet he'll like the challenge.:_ Rivven said, trying to distracted Mika from his distress with thoughts that any boy fresh of the trail would look forward to. Mika had been worried about the food, as the Falekin had certain dietary restrictions.

"Okay," Mika said, barely a meep, but the idea of several hours of this chaos made his stomach start to churn.

Merchants called from all sides, hawking their wares. Horses and wagons and people seemed to jam the roads. Mika wasn't sure how Rivven could even move through such a crowd. Mika couldn't even tell which women were whores. Surely some of them were, but most of the women, even in their states of winter dress seemed very revealed to him. Tandi had, of course, been wearing a Heralds uniform, which was relatively immodest by Falekin standards. But she was a Herald, made sexless, to Mika's eyes, by her title. The women of the small villages had had little interest in fashion, and in winter had largely been covered head to toe, just like the men.

The words of their calls seemed to swirl around him like a verbal soup. He felt like he only understood one word in five. The Falekin had their own dialect, but of course he'd learned a more "trade" or standardized version of Valdemaran as well. But they spoke so fast, their intonations all wrong. The air seemed heavy with smells and smoke and just the very presence of so many people. As they moved slowly deeper into the city, different scents clung in his mouth an nose. Unwashed bodies, animals, unfamiliar foods and the scents of certain kinds of trade, like the smell of hot iron near a blacksmiths. It was like the scents had no place to go, and they lingered until he could taste them all.

Mika strove to be strong and impassive, staring above the heads of everyone, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Trying to ignore the smells, the sounds, but as they drew closer to the castle, the opulent homes of the well-to-do rose like trees that some had grown almost trunk to trunk, their roofs forming a balcony over his head, boxing him in until he felt like he was suffocating.

"Rivven, stop." Mika said in an anxious tone.

_:Do you hurt? We're almost there, little love, just a bit longer.:_

"I'm going to be sick," Mika said in a tense voice. His head was pounding hard enough to blind him, his stomach roiling. Rivven seemed to take his statement very seriously, as he immediately moved to the side of the road and knelt down, letting Mika stagger out of his saddle. He stumbled into the wrought iron bars of some noble's fence, and braced against them, easing down onto his knees in sort of a controlled fall.

The urge to vomit hadn't been an imperative when he'd first dismounted, only an inevitable, but as his fragile knees hit the hard cobbles, the twin jolts of pain that shot through him took it out of his control, and he barely managed to lean forward over a sewer grate before he started to wretch terribly.

Rivven had returned to his hooves, and side stepped over towards his Chosen, standing protectively over him. He waited until Mika had emptied his stomach and his dry heaves had subsided before speaking to him, careful to keep his voice very gentle, he could sense Mika's headache through their bond.

_:What's wrong, little love? Was it something you ate?:_

"N-n-no… I don't know!" And for the first time since Tandi had rescued him, he started to cry, weeping pathetically as he rested his forehead against the cold iron fence. "It's just… so… so much…"

_:Shhh, shhh, it's okay:_ Rivven tried to sooth, lipping at Mika's coat. _:Can you get back in the saddle? I promise, once we get to the collegium it will be so much better. There's a lot of open space, and fewer people, and it's quiet. No smells, not like in the city.:_

"Alright… okay…" Mika sniffled, wiping his mouth with a kerchief from his pocket, and drying his eyes with his sleeve. His shoulders continued to shake with stifled sobs, though, as he turned a bit as Rivven kneeled down again. He managed to use Rivven's mane and tack to pull himself back into the saddle. He pulled his hood up over his face again, though, hiding deeper inside it, clinging to the saddle with both hands.

Tears of the purest misery coursed down his cheeks, hidden in the shadow of his hood, for the rest of the ride up to the collegium. Rivven felt terrible, but he could see no solution but to press on. The city had overwhelmed his Chosen so completely that the only solution was to no longer be in it. So, Rivven pushed ahead, as Mika withdrew into himself.

"Well-a-day, what do we have here? Rivven!" The gate-guard called congenial as Rivven approached the side-gate through which all the newly Chosen entered. Mika didn't even rouse on his back, seeming to have managed to put himself in a light trance to escape his over-whelmed state.

_:Chosen, you're being spoken to.:_ Rivven said, giving him a mental nudge.

"Lad? Are you alright?" The guard was a small raven-haired woman and she came up to Mika's stirrup, concern all over her face.

_:Actually she was speaking to you.:_ Mika responded, there was a touch of amusement in his voice, though it was still heavy with his nausea, headache, and now-aching legs. Rivven let out a huge sigh of relief and sent a gentle tendril of love down their link. He had been very afraid that Mika had been utterly traumatized by his first time in a large city.

"I've been better," Mika croaked, straightening just a bit in the saddle, and tucking back his hood.

"Oh, lad, you look terrible! Lets get you down and straight to the healers! And what's this saddle your in? You really must have had a time of it," The guard reached up to help Mika out of the saddle, but he leaned away from her touch.

"I can't walk… is Rivven allowed to bring me to the healers?" He asked, his voice meek, but unwavering.

"Rivven is allowed on the dais next to the throne, should he wish it," she snorted. "I can't come with you, lad, I need to stay here at the gate. Rivven knows the way though, just stay in the saddle. They'll probably feel you coming, with the ball of misery that you look."

"Thankee, Lady-guard."

Rivven bobbed his head in gratitude as well, and moved through the gate onto collegium grounds, and headed straight for the Healers Hall.

The guard had been right, the Healers seemed to sense Mika a coming because two full healers and three trainees met them at the door. It was good that there were so many, as Rivven could sense that at the end of his long, long journey, Mika was close to dropping in the traces.

"Rivven, by the gods!" The ranking Healer barked as Rivven drew level with them. "You should have let this boy out of the saddle days ago!" The Healer was a skinny white-haired old man, and had served twenty years on the boarder with Hardorn. He wasn't one to trifle with. Along with him was a younger Healer, a tall blond woman. Three trainees in sage green hovered right behind them, a boy and two girls.

"Could have stopped for a fortnight and it wouldn't have made any difference, Sir Healer," Mika whispered. Rivven knelt down carefully, not wanting Mika to slid out of the saddle. The white-haired Healer moved forward quickly.

"And why's that, lad? Can you stand?"

"No, I can't, I'm sorry," Mika shook his head. "Is it alright if I pass out now? Just for a moment?" Mika asked.

"Not yet, lad, not yet," the Healer waved the apprentices off to get a stretcher, and they ran off post-haste. "Just stay there on your mount, than, if you can. Let me get a read on you. Have you ever been proper-Healed before?"

"Yes, just a couple weeks ago," Mika nodded, leaning heavily on a hand that he'd braced against Rivven's neck, his head hanging.

"Good, then you know what it feels like. Just sit still. If you really going to roll up the whites, tell me so we can lay you down on the ground, alright?"

"Yes, Sir Healer,"

"Alright than. And Healer Hans will suffice." With that, the Healer gently rested his fingers against Mika's temples, closing his own eyes. Rivven held still as a statue, as Mika was swaying in the saddle already. The female Healer came over and stood behind Mika, hands lightly on his shoulders, just in case he passed out without warning.

Healer Hans released him as the apprentices came rushing back out with the stretcher. "Well boy, you're a bit of a mess right now, aren't you?" Healer Hans said softly. "It's alright now. We'll get you fixed up, and you can tell Dean Elcarth the whole story, alright?"

"Sure," Mika nodded faintly.

"Healer Jana and I are going to get you onto the stretcher, then you can pass out." The Healer smiled a little at the boy, then he and Healer Jana worked Mika carefully on to the stretcher, rushing him away inside.

Rivven watched them go rather unhappily. He felt bad that his Chosen was in such a state, and worried to no longer have Mika with him. He really hoped they put his Chosen in a ground floor room… maybe one that opened into the garden. Rivven didn't want to be too far from him as he was.

- o – o – o – o – o -

Mika did close his eyes and pass out. When he woke next, he could hear whispered voices near by. Not so soft that he couldn't hear them, though. Mika wasn't sure he was ready to open his eyes yet, and lay still, listening.

"His legs are a ruin, the breaks we can heal, but he's deformed. I can't even list all the that's wrong with them."

It was Healer Hans who was speaking, his voice a rough whisper. Mika couldn't quite guess at what his tone meant though, and he'd never heard his legs referred to as 'a ruin' before. Had something else happened to him while he'd been unconscious? Nothing hurt any worse than usual. Even his head and stomach had eased to be mostly tolerable.

"Can you fix them?" an unfamiliar voice asked, "Can he walk?"

"I don't know. I'd say no, but he has a lot of muscle tone. If he couldn't walk at all, he wouldn't have much muscle, they'd have atrophied. I looked at the soles of his boots, they're scuffed and dirty. Newly dirty at that. He's been on his feet, even with the new breaks."

Mika frowned. What were they talking about? His legs, obviously, but of course he could walk. He wasn't that crippled, he wasn't "a ruin"! Crippled, lame, yes of course, but he got by.

"Can you Heal his legs? All that's wrong with them? No, I suppose not, not if they're old." The unfamiliar voice said.

"Well… there are some things we may be able to do, but to be honest, it will require we break some bones and set them in more proper positions. His pelvis is the worst. You can't tell, but it's tilted and uneven. It would mean months a-bed though. Lets wait and see what can be done and what he can already do first." Healer Hans said quietly.

"Have you put him unconscious?"

"No, he passed out. You're the gift expert, of course, Elcarth, but he's clearly over extended something. I couldn't tell what though. I put light blocks on his channels, just enough to dampen the pain. You'll be able to See when you take a look, just be careful not to dislodge them, or he'll be in misery."

Mika finally slitted his eyes a bit, peering through his lashes at the unfamiliar male voice. He was a small owlish-looking man who didn't seem much younger than Healer Hans himself.

"Ah, I think he's awake," the man called Elcarth had been watching him closer than Mika had thought, and he gave up pretense and opened his eyes. The room was a bit blurry.

"Where are my lenses?" Mika rasped.

"Right here, child," Elcarth said, picking up the lenses off a small table besides the bed and offering them to Mika. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he took the proffered lenses and set them on his face. He was feeling better, worlds better then he'd felt when he'd first rode in, but still not very well. Mika had no clue what this business was about "Gifts" and "channels" and "blocks" and he very much didn't like when he didn't understand what was going on around him.

"Good, very good. Healer Hans has informed me that you've had a time of it," Elcarth said, taking a seat on the stool next to Mika's bed. "Why don't you tell me the whole story?"

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong with me first," Mika replied. He would have crossed his arms over his chest, but he was still laying down and that would have looked silly, so he settled for fixing Elcarth with a look. "That seems a bit more relevant at the moment."

Elcarth blinked owlishly, frowning at Mika, but the boy wasn't intimidated, and frowned right back at him. The Healer, who was still hovering in the background made sort of a choking sound as though he were stifling laughter.

"I assure you, you're fine. It's nothing that a little rest won't fix," the man tried to sooth. Mika raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I was fine until we came into the city. Better than fine. Then today, we come into the city and I'm sicker than a street cur. I'm not running a fever, I haven't eaten anything that would turn my stomach inside out. So what is it?" Mika insisted stubbornly. Dean Elcarth sighed and

ran a hand over his snowy hair.

"Well, at least we don't have to worry about you being intimidated by the Heralds," the Dean muttered. "I'm not really sure what's wrong. Healer Hans said that he thinks one of your Gifts has been over burdened. Gifts are the little mind magics that all Heralds have. Like almost every other trainee to come through these walls, your Gifts are untrained. Something about being around so many people overwhelmed whatever little protections you had, giving you what's called a "reaction headache". That headache is probably what caused all your other symptoms as well. It's nothing serious. Every Herald gets them, and with more frequency than any of us would prefer." Elcarth sighed deeply. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"What are my "Gifts"?" Mika asked. He could feel a tickle at the back of his mind. Rivven? When Mika turned his attention to that sensation, it increased and he could feel a warm flood of love.

_:Yes Chosen, I'm out in the Companions' Field, in the stable, having some nice hot mash. You be polite with the Dean, now. You aren't smarter than everyone in the kingdom you know. And even if you are, it's not polite to act like it.:_ Rivven admonished gently.

Mika felt heat rise to his cheeks. Rivven was right. There was no reason for him to behave like he was emperor of the universe. His mother would have turned him over her knee if he'd dared speak to her like that.

"Well, I don't know what your Gifts are yet. We haven't gotten that far." The Dean's tone was polite, but Mika could hear the exasperation under it.

"My apologies, Sir Herald. I'm being unreasonably pig headed. You are the expert in these matters, and I defer to you," Mika did his best to put all his sincerity in his words, least they come out sounding sarcastic, which was a very serious risk. Not because Mika didn't believe what he said, but because he didn't like to be in the wrong.

"Quite alright, lad. You'll need that kind of brass in the future. I'd just rather you didn't put it to use right this moment." Elcarth smiled slightly.

_:He's a very busy man, little love, and has dropped everything to come speak with you.:_

Oh. Well it would have been nice to know that earlier. Mika frowned.

_:That's not how it works. I'm not your nanny goat.:_

"Then why are you still talking to me, hay burner!" Mika snapped out loud, unreasonably irritated. Elcarth looked taken aback. Mika realized he'd spoken out loud and felt his face go crimson. In his head, Rivven withdrew quickly, but not before Mika could hear him roaring with laughter.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't speaking to you, sir Herald! It was Rivven! I—he—in my—" he stammered, unsure where to even begin explaining that Rivven spoke to him, in his head, and that's who'd he'd been speaking to out loud, even though Rivven was no where near by.

Elcarth chuckled and patted Mika's shoulder. "It's alright, it's all right. Many of us speak to our Companions mind to mind. You're not the first one to have an ill-timed outburst because of it. Now, you have the gist of your situation, will you indulge me with your tale?"

"Of course, Sir Herald," Mika agree quickly. "My name is Mika'el V'Jordain, I am Falekin, from Falcon's Pass. That's way up north, squished kind of between the boarder of Iftel and the Forest of Sorrows."

Mika launched into the whole sordid tale, about how his father had taken him away, then left him for dead after breaking his legs. How he lay in the snow until Rivven, then Tandi and Yuri found him. The Healer who had fixed up his legs, his own insistence to be on the road, the trading of Rivven's saddle for the side saddle, and the long, long trip here. It had taken just shy of three weeks.

"Rivven and I stayed in towns every third night or so," Mika explained, as the story started to wind down. "He said it was against the rules, but that my whole situation couldn't be accounted for by the rules. People were very kind to us. I have a whole pouch full of chits."

"Well lad, that's one of the most impressive tales of being Chosen I've heard in quite some time," Elcarth said with a nod. "It's not terribly unusual for the moment of one's Choosing to be a moment of crisis. Usually they're fall smaller crises though. Well, you're here now, and hopefully no more crisis for some time. I must go meet with the king now, but I will leave you in the very capable Healers. Hans has already said he wishes to keep you over night, so you have nothing to worry about until morning. Do rest up, Mika'el." Elcarth smiled again, but instead of smiling back, Mika frowned just a little. He sensed something behind that smile. Not maliciousness, of course not, Elcarth was a Herald after all, but a certain leery insincerity.

"Yes, Sir Herald," Mika responded. He watched as Elcarth stood and left the room, his stomach turning uneasily. Herald Elcarth may hoped there would be no more crisis's for some time, but Mika could already sense one looming on the horizon like a heavy black storm cloud.

Authors Note: Hello everyone. I've been struggling with this chapter as well, but here it is, finally! For those of you who don't know, I never, ever leave a story. I always continue it. It may take months, but eventually there will be a new chapter.

I've had some questions about where this story fits in the timeline. Since I just threw in Elcarth, I can sense that's going to become a popular question, so let me try and explain: If you were to take the Velgrath timeline and remove the section starting at Arrows of the Queen forward, and spliced the beginning of my story in where you removed Arrows of the Queen from, that's sort of what I've done. King Garth has replaced Selenay, Mika has replaced Talia. There are current tensions with Karse, and there will be future tensions with Hardorn. I'm replacing almost all of the canon characters with my own, accept for a few, like Elcarth, who have such a small part they aren't worth replacing. My plot will not follow the plot originally put forth by Mercedes Lackey, accept for in broad-brush strokes. Think of this as sort of an alternate reality.

I hope you all are enjoying this. I am having fun writing it, even when it's hard. I always know where I'm going, sometimes it's just hard to find the right path to get there. Bear with me! :)


	9. Cloak and Dagger

Disclaimer: Velgrath, Valdemar, and the general world in which this story takes place are not mine, nor am I making any money off of it. The characters are mine, however, and since someday I may make money off them, but am not at the moment, I ask that they are not used without my consent

Blackbird

Chapter Eight: Cloak and Dagger

By: Irish

"Sir ah… Garth?" One of the Pages called hesitantly from the door of Garth's room with the other Herald trainees. It was rather late in the evening, and Garth couldn't imagine who would be summoning him, as far as he knew there was no counsel business that couldn't wait until tomorrow.

"Yes?" He looked up from the politics book he was studying. This page was only one of a huge number of people uncertain how to address him. Garth was not yet a Herald, so he could not yet be King. Since he was Chosen, however, he would be king the moment he was given his whites. No whites, no crown, no vote. He was left dependant on his Steward for any control over the workings of the kingdom at all, a weird sort of limbo that left lots of people unsure how to treat him, and left the kingdom of Valdemar on precarious political ground.

"Herald Elcarth requests your presence. Immediately," the page shuffled his feet. "I was also to tell you that you should not be waylaid on your way, that it is of the utmost import."

"Thank you. I am on my way immediately," Garth smiled to the uncomfortable young man, who was at least his own age. He stood, setting his book aside. By the time he'd pulled on his shoes the page had beat a hasty retreat.

_:Hmm, I wonder what this is all about?:_ Garth's inquiry to his Companion, Treyvan, was hardly idle. He suspected that Treyvan would know exactly what was going on. He often did. The burden of the chaos of the kingdom fell as heavily, if not more so, on the backs of the Companions as it did their Heralds.

_:I suppose you'll have to ask Elcarth.:_ Treyvan replied with faux innocence.

_:You're no help, you know that right?:_

_:I know no such thing. I do know that Elcarth is right, do not let anyone waylay you. Especially your dear Uncle Steward.:_ Treyvan used the term of endearment sarcastically. Garth's uncle, Bandros, was serving as Steward to the throne until Garth came of age. Treyvan, and many other Heralds and Companions strongly disliked the man, but he was quite popular among nobility. The Counsel had been all for his appointment. If Garth had been younger, more impressionable, the Circle would have surely erupted in vehement protest, but as it stood, Garth was close to his whites, well counseled by his Companion, and not as susceptible to his uncle's charm.

_:Well, then I'll take the way less traveled by.: _Garth replied as he slipped out of his room. It was well after dinner and when he entered the common room of the Heralds' Collegium there were only a very small handful of trainees and a couple Heralds who were either trying to bolt down a bit of leftovers, having missed the meal, or studying in groups. Garth lifted his hand briefly to those who acknowledge him, but moved over to the dumbwaiter that went down to the kitchen in the basement.

Sliding open the door, he hopped up into the boxed-in platform. He was getting too big to fit and struggled to draw his legs in far enough. The other trainees paid him no mind, quite used to this little trick of his. One of the Heralds, though, stood and came over to him.

"Need a hand Garth?" Herald Kandin asked, a spark of amusement in his grayish-blue eyes.

"Would you mind operating the rope? I barely fit any more." Garth sighed, finally managing to tuck himself inside the box.

"Surely. Trying to avoid someone, are we?" The Herald asked, bemused. Garth was quite familiar with Herald Kandin, a very mild mannered, even-tempered Herald who had a penchant for good-natured teasing. He also tended to have sweets in his pockets, which endeared him to every child he'd ever met. Garth had known the man his whole life.

"No, just too lazy to use the stairs." Garth quipped, winking before he started to work the ropes enough to lower the box so Herald Kandin could access the ropes from above.

"You were always dreadfully lazy," the Herald laughed good-naturedly. Before reaching for the ropes, Kandin fished in a belt pouch and tossed a couple of wax paper wrapped toffees in the dumbwaiter with the Heir. "For the road." He winked, then started to pull the ropes hand over hand.

"My thanks, Kandin," Garth called back up as he was lowered, a bit too quickly for his tastes, into the black well of the shaft.

He hit the bottom with a bit of a bump, and fumbled in the darkness to pry open the sliding door from the inside. Finally it slid open and Garth let out a tense breath, unfolding his legs and half tumbling out into the kitchen. Cook sat at the big table where the kitchen helpers ate dinner, pawing through a book of recipes. He jumped when Garth appeared, almost from nowhere.

"By the One Garth! You'll kill a man of fright! You're going to break my lift!" Cook scolded, but with no real strength or malice behind it.

"Official business, actually. I've very strict orders not to be waylaid. I thought that was less likely to happen if I took the back route. Trust me, I'm getting too tall to find riding in the lift enjoyable." Garth said with a smile and a shrug. Cook raised an eyebrow at the words and waved him off without further comment, making Garth wonder if the man knew something about what was going on, what he was being summoned for. The Heir had long ago learned that the servants in the castle knew everything, and usually knew it well before those who were supposed to be 'in the know' were informed.

Garth trotted up the stairs that led out of the kitchen and up to the ground floor of the Trainee's wing. Alternating between skulking in shadows and dashing across open spaces, the young man made his way to the Dean's office.

_:You're too old to be playing Cloak and Dagger, Chosen.:_ Treyvan chuckled. Garth knew he was being silly and overly dramatic, but it was fun to play at being a spy, and though he was really too old for such games of pretend, he wanted to enjoy the stolen moments before all fun had given way to relentless duty. In the spirit of his game, he even dove between two alcoves, tucking and rolling in a summersault when he landed, popping back to his feet, before he moved on. It wasn't like he could do things like this once he was king, after all.

Dean Herald Elcarth's office door was open a crack when Garth arrived, the brighter light of the office cutting a wedge in the dim shadows of the hallway beyond. Garth rapped lightly with a knuckle. "Dean Elcarth?"

"Come in, Garth, come in," Elcarth called almost immediately. Garth pushed open the door and stepped into the tiny office, bursting at the seams with books and paper, a forest of clutter.

"I didn't pass anyone other than trainees and Heralds, and Cook," Garth informed as he picked his way across the short span of floor and found himself the edge of a chair to perch on.

"Good, I have news, and I didn't want anyone else to give it first. The new King's Own has arrived." Elcarth said with little preamble.

"That's—" Garth stopped, tempering his immediate enthusiastic response. If that was great news, why was this so shrouded in secrecy? Why hadn't Treyvan told him the moment the newly Chosen King's Own had arrived? Why was Elcarth so worried about someone else telling him first. "That should be good news, right?" Garth said slowly.

"It is, it is good news… mostly…" the Dean hastened to assure.

"But…?"

"It's not exactly as we'd hoped, nor expected. He's young, slightly younger than you, I believe."

Garth felt his heart sink with worry. He was young and inexperienced, and would be ascending the throne at an almost unheard of age for Valdemar. They had assumed it would be an adult, maybe even another Herald, who would be Chosen. Someone who could help guide Garth as a mentor. "Oh," he said softly, unsure what else to say.

"He is also, hmm, well, he's crippled." Elcarth had obviously been trying to find a gentler word, but had seemed to come up with none.

"What do you mean, crippled?" Garth asked slowly, sending a wordless question, tinged with panic, to his Companion.

_:It's okay Chosen, we must trust Rivven,:_ was Treyvan's response. Entirely unhelpful in Garth's opinion.

"His legs are somehow deformed. We're not sure how serious it is yet, as he came in with both legs broken, in addition to whatever in-born deformities he has. He apparently also had no true Healer in his village or nearby, so the Healers are still working on figuring out what is correctable or improvable." Elcarth said, covering the most amount of detail in the fewest words possible.

Garth sat back in the chair he was sharing with a pile of books as best he could, a hand coming to his face to massage his forehead. "This seems less like good news."

"That's why I wanted to be the one to tell you. He is King's Own, he has been Chosen by Rivven, and he seems to be a very brilliant young man. I didn't want anyone telling you something more biased and jaded. Unlike you, the Monarch's Own is selected, Chosen, by something bigger than ourselves. Never has a Grove's Born Chosen wrongly. You must have confidence in this young man."

Garth wondered if the Dean believed what he was saying, or was saying it simply for Garth's benefit. It was the truth of the matter, though. There was no undoing what had been done, not by them. It was a matter of trusting the Companions, who'd never steered them wrong before.

_:Exactly so, Beloved. Do not be fooled by the skin that he wears. Besides, I think you'll like him. The buzz is that he's a very interesting young man.:_ Treyvan interrupted Garth's thoughts without compunction, nor apology, for eavesdropping.

"When can I meet him?" Garth asked finally with a sigh.

"The Healers are still working with him. He's had a very long trip, one that he made in an infirm condition. He is tired, and understandably a bit cranky. Tomorrow I would suspect," the Dean said.

"Alright, thank you, Dean. Should I keep this under the rosebush? Or now that I know is it fair game?" Garth asked as he stood slowly.

"Oh, it's already spreading like wildfire. Companion grapevine and all that. I would recommend that you make yourself difficult for your Steward to find until you have a chance to meet him yourself, or you will probably find yourself being asked questions that you have no answer for yet." Elcarth shrugged narrow shoulders. "But, that is up to you."

"No, that's a valid point. My thanks again, Dean."

After brief exchange of polite goodbyes, Garth slipped from the Dean's office. Instead of heading back up to his room, however, he headed out to the Companions' Field to meet with Treyvan. He was nervous and worried and wanted the comfort of the other half of his soul. This situation was in no way ideal, nor had the Choosing of a Monarchs Own improved the situation as everyone in the Circle had so desperately hoped it would. Treyvan seemed to trust in Rivven, though, and there was nothing to be done. As the priests so often said, sometimes one just had to let go and trust.

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, I'd been trying to add several more pages with a scene shift, but decided it was best to just let this stand as it was. I hope everyone's still with me and still enjoying the story!


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